What Comes Around, Goes Around
by sinecure
Summary: When something tragic happens in Sunnydale, Willow and Spike are caught in the middle. Can they fix it, make things right again? *Major WIP*
1. What Comes Around, Goes Around

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Fox, and Twentieth Century and whoever else has rights to it. I don't, more's the pity, but they do. No money is being made by me on this.  
  
Author's Note: This starts after season 5... and is rather AU. It has spoilers for basically all of season 4 and some of 5. I'm a Spike/Willow 'shipper, and this story is W/S. Also, this is a work in progress. I've been working on it for nearly two years now, and it's still not done, but I'm getting there. It's very long, and involed. Please hang in there, and don't give up on me if I don't update regularly. Reviews would be most welcome.  
  
Another Note: If you read this when I first posted it, you'll need to read it again to understand some of it. I've added a lot to previously posted chapters, and I couldn't begin to tell you which ones have new stuff, and which ones don't. Sorry.  
  
Dedicated: To my beta, Claudia, you rock! You all should thank her for getting more of this story.  
  
  
  
PART 1  
  
Willow examined herself in the mirror one last time before heading out. She was dressed rather conservatively for her; faded blue jeans, a short-sleeved green blouse with a low neckline, and white tennis shoes. Satisfied with her appearance, she headed to the door just as the phone started ringing. She debated on whether or not to answer it, but finally ran and picked it up.  
  
"Hello?" She winced at the impatience in her voice, but Giles didn't even notice, or pretended not to. Willow tended to think it was the latter.  
  
"Willow? I'm glad I caught you." He sounded distracted, nothing new there. "I tried to get hold of Buffy or Xander, but neither were home. I need a favor." He paused, apparently awaiting a response.  
  
Willow rolled her eyes good-naturedly at his slow, roundabout way of asking her for something. "Sure, Giles, what do you need?"  
  
She could hear the relief in his voice at her easy acceptance. "I just need you to stop by Spike's crypt and ask-- no, *tell* him to come over here. There's a spell I wanted to try, but it's missing a prime ingredient. Namely, vampire blood. The tamer the vampire, the better, since it'd be rather hard for me to go out and extract blood from one while Buffy's pummeling him." He chuckled, "Don't tell Spike though. I'd prefer not to be regaled with his evil exploits."  
  
Willow laughed, remembering the time she'd called Spike tame. He'd spent the next week forcing her to listen to story after gruesome story whenever he saw her. During research, and patrol, while watching TV, and even while she tried to eat. Her stomach felt oogie just thinking about it. "Got ya, Giles. I don't think I'll be making that mistake again." She looked at her watch, calculating the time it would take to get to Spike's crypt, convince him to go to Giles', and then to walk to the Bronze. She sighed, knowing she'd be at least a half an hour late. "I'll have him there in twenty," she said cheerily, and hung up. "Damn."  
  
Luck was with her though, because she spotted him walking down the middle of the street just as she was shutting her front door. "Spike! Spike!" She locked the door quickly and ran after the apparently deaf vampire. She looked down momentarily to shove her keys into her pants pocket and ended up slamming right into the bleach blonde vamp. "Ow." She wobbled on her feet for a second, before straightening herself with a hand to his arm, giving him a dirty look for not helping, and not stopping when she'd called him.  
  
He smirked at her in that annoying way he had, causing his cheekbones to become more prominent than they already were. His blue eyes danced with malicious delight, mocking her. She hated when he got like this. She just knew he was going to make everything that much harder for her. He always did. Apparently, teasing her was a favorite pastime of his.  
  
"I feel just like a rock star," he smirked, his scarred eyebrow quirking up in amusement. "Got my own groupie and everything."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, ha ha ha. You're killing me. Too bad that's the only kind of killing you can do these days, eh, Spike?" Oops. There she'd done it again, and after just telling Giles she wouldn't make that mistake again. She really hoped he overlooked her slip-up this time. He narrowed his eyes at her, but that was all. She wasn't afraid. A chipped Spike, was a safe Spike, so, back to the business at hand. "Giles needs you at his place. He, um, needs help with a spell," she told him.  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. "Great. The watcher wanker needs help, and I'm supposed to come running? What am I, Zorro?" He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, blowing smoke in her face.  
  
Willow barely noticed, she was too busy looking pointedly at his long black duster fanning out behind him in the breeze, his tight black jeans, and black T-Shirt. A gorgeous face, a sexy voice, and a yummy accent completed the picture. Willow blushed furiously when she realized that her pointed look had turned into an appreciative perusal. One which he'd caught.  
  
His smirk knew no bounds. He crossed his arms protectively over his chest, and shuddered dramatically. "I feel so... violated," he laughed.  
  
"Hmph. You, sir, are no Zorro. He was sexy, and charming, and a gentleman." She danced out of his way when he snarled at her and made a grab for her arm.  
  
"I was a gentleman at one time too, pet. Makes no difference. Look how I turned out."  
  
She snorted. "Yeah, you were such a gentleman back in the last century. What's gotten into you? Could it be... a demon?" she gasped dramatically.  
  
Spike nudged her. "Back off, Witch, I've got tons more stories to tell if you don't." He grinned eagerly.  
  
She shook her head quickly, pushing him right back. "Oh, no you don't. If I have to hear one more story about entrails and railroad spikes, I'm gonna have to stake you. Oh, darn," she frowned in mock regret, "this is where we part ways. Adieu." And with a little wave, she headed down the street toward the Bronze. She hadn't gone more than a block before she heard someone behind her.  
  
"Ahem."  
  
Willow stopped with a frustrated sigh. She wasn't really angry, in fact she enjoyed Spike's company when he wasn't in share mode. She just felt like she had to give him a hard time. Always. "Spike, notice how I said we were parting ways, as in, you go that-a-way and I go this-a-way?" She turned around, and was faced with Spike. In different clothes. Blue jeans, blue T-shirt, gray button-up shirt, and no duster? What was going on here?  
  
He grinned malevolently as he grabbed her by the arm, twisting her around in his grip. She slammed back against him, and immediately felt his fangs sink into her neck. Willow screamed.  
  
He held her tight against him so that she couldn't struggle. She felt the sucking sensation he was creating on her neck, and tried to pull away. She couldn't even move her hands, let alone her whole body. He drank until she felt faint. Drank until her knees gave out. Instead of stopping, he held her up, and continued to kill her. Slowly.  
  
A few pain-filled and terrifying minutes later, his fangs left her neck, tearing the skin even more. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her along with him. Feeling nauseous and weak, she tripped a couple of times, but he always yanked her up, forcing her to either walk or be dragged. She tried numerous times to get free, but his grip was too strong. Her tearful face fell on his handsome features as one thought ran through her mind.  
  
"Why?"  
  
He didn't even bother looking at her, just continued pulling her along like a child. "I'm thinking it's because I'm a vampire and you're food, but I could be wrong," he laughed.  
  
When she realized where he was taking her, she nearly collapsed in relief. Giles' apartment. Giles was there, and maybe Buffy and Xander. Please let Buffy be there, she prayed silently.  
  
Her heart was beating a million miles an hour. Hoping to distract him, to keep him from being on alert, she stammered, "How did you change your clothes so fast?"  
  
He finally looked at her, his brow furrowed as if he had no idea what she was talking about. Almost like he was trying to decipher a code of some kind. She started to think that maybe this wasn't Spike. It was kind of obvious now, but when she was getting her blood sucked out of her neck, and then getting dragged all over town, the last thing she'd stopped to think about was whether or not the vampire she'd just been attacked by was really the vampire she thought he was. But now that she had a minute to think on it, she was sure this wasn't Spike. Different clothes, plus him biting her with no pain, did not equal a clear picture of Spike. Knowing that now, relief poured through her. She liked Spike, and she didn't want him to go bad again.  
  
They made it to Giles' a few minutes later. She held her breath when he opened the door and walked in, two thoughts entering her mind. One: despite his remarkable impression of Spike, and his attack on her, he was not a vampire. Vampires needed invitations to enter people's homes, and since he had walked right in, he was not a vampire. And, two: no one except Giles was home, and he wasn't paying any attention to them.  
  
"Giles," she yelled, before Fake Spike clamped a hand over her mouth.  
  
Giles jumped up, dropping the book he'd been reading, and clutched his chest. "Good Lord, Willow you scared me nearly to death. Oh, good, Spike, you're here." He bent to retrieve his book, so used to seeing Spike there, that he didn't realize what was going on. Willow frantically rolled her eyes, trying to get him to look her way. Giles straightened and set the book on the table, then headed toward the kitchen.  
  
"What'd you need me for, Watcher?" Now Willow could hear it. Fake Spike's accent was slightly off. She closed her eyes and prayed for Buffy to miraculously appear.  
  
Giles came out a second later, smiling. "Oh, nothing too big, just a spell." His smile turned grim as he pulled a crossbow from behind his back.  
  
Willow's eyes went wide. She made a small noise of happiness, and Giles nodded at her, not taking his eyes off Fake Spike.  
  
"Let her go. Apparently the implant is gone, so why don't you just leave town?"  
  
Willow frantically shook her head, but Fake Spike's hand over her mouth was holding her head still as well.  
  
She felt Fake Spike shrug. "No thanks. First I'd like to kill you all. Then I'll go."  
  
Giles didn't seem to realize it wasn't Spike standing before him. Not that she had any room to talk. She hadn't known right away either. She started making noises again, and Giles' eyes flicked toward her. She tried to tell him with her eyes. She stared at his pants and shirt, which probably looked more like she was ogling him, than trying to tell him something. He obviously wasn't getting the message. Finally, out of desperation, she stomped on Fake Spike's foot. He let go of her in surprise, and she tried to get away, but he immediately grabbed her again.  
  
"Not Spike," she yelled out, before he clamped his hand around her mouth again. She groaned angrily.  
  
Giles raised an eyebrow at her in question, and she nodded.  
  
"You're not Spike?" Giles asked the man holding her. She could see the skepticism on his face.  
  
Willow shook her head, but Fake Spike held her head still again. She stomped her foot in frustration, careful not to hit his foot again. The crossbow was still trained on Fake Spike, but it was starting to waver slightly. Giles' hand was getting tired.   
  
"Shoot him," she yelled, but it came out sounding more like a mumble.  
  
Giles understood though, and he let the bolt fly. Fake Spike anticipated the shot, and dodged away, holding Willow in front of him. The bolt burned a path into her shoulder, and her legs collapsed under her. He let her fall to the floor, no longer needing her as leverage. Giles wanted to go to her, she could see it on his face, but she couldn't let him. He was their only hope. "Run," she whispered, before passing out.  
  
  
  
When she came to, she found him. He was dead. The living room was covered in blood. Giles' blood. She crawled over to him. He was partially in the living room, and partially in the hall. She checked for a pulse, which was hard to do. There was so much blood, and his neck was torn open. After determining he was dead, she crawled away and threw up.  
  
She sat back, panting heavily as her stomach tried to heave up everything she'd eaten that day. Her eyes fell on Giles again, and she had to bite her lip to keep it from trembling. Poor Giles. He had bite marks on his neck, and slashes all over his face, a crossbow bolt sticking out of his chest... his glasses broken and bloodied on the floor beside him.  
  
She sniffled, trying to stem the tears, and was assaulted by the stench of blood and death. She hastily got to her feet and went out the door, not wanting to throw up again.  
  
There was no sign of Fake Spike. Or anyone else for that matter, for which she was grateful. She stumbled over to the fountain in the courtyard and sat on the low brick wall. Gasping from the pain in her shoulder, and the hurt in her heart, Willow cried.  
  
After what seemed like hours, she realized she needed to get help. Call Buffy. But the phone was inside with Giles. What was left of Giles. She really didn't want to go back in there, but she knew she had to. She stood up, on shaky legs, and slowly made her way toward the door. Blood loss and pain were starting to take their toll. She made it as far as the doorway before she fainted again.  
  
When she came to, she found herself propped against the wall outside of Giles' apartment. Lamplight flooded out from the interior, warmer and more inviting than it had a right to be under the circumstances. She tried to stand, but her body wasn't having any of it. Footsteps inside alerted her to the presence of someone else, and she held her breath, listening. The footsteps faded. She looked around her quickly, searching for anything that could be used as a weapon.  
  
There was a lawn chair a few doors down. No help at all. A rock by the fountain. Why hadn't she fainted over there? A slight breeze rustled the leaves of a bush on the other side of Giles' door. Branches... wood. Perfect. She hoped.  
  
She scooted herself across the ground as quickly and quietly as possible, glancing inside as she passed the doorway. A pair of jean-clad legs were headed her way. With a whimper of despair, Willow pulled herself along faster.  
  
"Hold still." It was Spike's voice.  
  
A hand grabbed her and she jerked away from him.  
  
"Don't touch me. Get away from me." She could no longer hold back the tears. Giles was dead. Her shoulder and arm were painfully numb, and her neck hurt from the bite mark. Loss of blood factored in there somewhere as well, and she just couldn't do it anymore. She wasn't Buffy, she wasn't stoic, and strong. She was just Willow. "Just... please. Leave me alone," she sobbed, covering her face with her hands, and wincing in pain.  
  
"Witch," Fake Spike snapped. Or maybe it was Real Spike. She didn't know anymore. "What happened?"  
  
When she only continued to cry, he pulled her to her feet, forcing her to look at him. His jaw was clenched angrily, and his eyes blazed at her. This was Real Spike, she realized. His voice was right, and he had on the right clothes again.  
  
"You want to die? Fine. I can leave you here to bleed to death." He looked as if he wanted to do that very thing.  
  
Her knees gave way, but she didn't fall to the ground. Spike caught her with an aggravated curse and carried her over to the fountain, setting her down. He stood back up and stared down at her.  
Willow swallowed a sob. "Giles is dead."  
  
He nodded, his eyes moving toward the open doorway. "I know. I was just in there."  
  
She took a deep, calming breath. "We need to call Buffy--"  
  
His eyes closed for a second, his voice held no emotion whatsoever. "We can't. She's dead too. Found her in an alley just after I left you."  
  
Willow blinked a few times, sure she'd misunderstood him. Buffy dead? It wasn't possible. Buffy was the Slayer. She couldn't die. Not again. He had to be wrong. She would correct him later.  
  
"... to the hospital," he was saying, "you're bleeding to death. I can't carry you with that bolt sticking out of your shoulder. I'm gonna have to break it off."  
  
Willow nodded. "Okay. Then we can go get Buffy, right?" she asked hopefully.  
  
He paused a second, then nodded. "Sure thing, pet. Now, scoot down onto the ground, and brace yourself against the wall here." Willow did as he said and waited. "Ready?"  
  
She nodded, her face grim. "No."  
  
He chuckled humorlessly and knelt in front of her, grabbing the thin piece of wood embedded in her right shoulder.  
  
When he snapped it off, Willow bit her lip to keep from screaming. She felt fresh blood seeping from the wound. Clutching Spike's arm, she held on until the pain subsided. "I think a hospital would be good now," she told him.  
  
He didn't reply, simply swung her up into his arms and started walking. 


	2. What Comes part2

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.  
PART 2  
  
Spike strode up to Giles' apartment door and went in without knocking, knowing the door wouldn't be locked. As usual, at least one of the Slayer's friends was there, sitting on the couch, researching something or other. It was the witch, completely engrossed in the book on her lap, so engrossed in fact, that she hadn't heard him come in. Closing the door quietly behind him, he leaned against it and watched her for a minute.  
  
She was smart, cute, funny in an odd way, and so damn innocent that he wanted nothing more than to kill her. If he still could, he would. Especially after that botched spell that had him and the slayer engaged.  
  
Pushing away from the door with a mental sigh, he snuck up behind her, leaned in by her ear, and whispered, "Boo," at the same time as he tapped her on the shoulder.  
  
Willow shot up off the couch with a scream, her book went flying off her lap to land on the table with a thud. She spun around, facing him, and put a hand to her mouth, looking around her in confusion. "How--" she breathed, "how did I get here?"  
  
Spike, busy laughing, shrugged. "Walked?"  
  
She shook her head in frustration. "No, how-- when--" she licked her lips and started over, "When did I get here? How?"  
  
Spike gave her an irritated look. "I don't know. Do I look like your bloody keeper? I just got here, you've been with you all day, and if you don't know, then how am I supposed to know?"  
  
She looked directly at him, her green eyes wide with fear. It was then that he was struck by the terror pouring off of her. He smirked at her.  
  
"Score one for the big bad neutered one," he chuckled, "because, apparently, I *can* still scare you."  
  
She didn't say anything, just stood there staring at him with her huge eyes full of terror and confusion, and it was making him feel all good about himself. He took a step toward her, intending to-- well, he wasn't sure what he intended to do, since there was nothing he could do anymore. She was looking at him like he'd just killed her best friend, and it felt good. He missed this.  
  
She backed away from him, jerking out of his reach even though he was still several feet from her. She backed into the corner by the bookcase, warding him off with her hands. "Get away from me."  
  
Spike stopped a few feet away from her, wondering what the hell was wrong with her. He shrugged. "Gladly. Just came for some blood I stashed here last night--"  
  
Her head snapped up suddenly, her eyes boring into him. "Oh my God," she whispered. "You killed Giles. You-- you're not him. The implant, it's gone. You--" she stopped suddenly, gagging. She shoved her hand against her mouth, pushing past him and running down the hall, into the bathroom.  
  
Spike stood there, distantly hearing her retch, his mind on what she'd said. He wasn't him? Who the hell was him? And his implant was gone? What the hell did she mean by that? It was still there, a painful reminder of all he hated about this damn town and everyone in it. Did she really think he'd killed Giles, or another of her damn friends? He hadn't. Not that he wouldn't if he were able to, but he wasn't able to. So far as he knew they were alive and well somewhere.  
  
He stomped down the hall to the bathroom, pissed at her for accusing him of something he hadn't done. Something her and her friends tended to do too often for his liking.  
  
"Hey. What the hell is wrong with you?" He tried the knob, but it was locked, so he pounded on the door. "I don't know what kind of drugs you've been taking, Red, but maybe you should share." When she didn't answer, he twisted the knob, breaking it off, and shoved the door open.  
  
Willow was sitting with her back to the wall, her legs tucked up against her chest, her arms wrapped around them. Her eyes were wide and frightened. When he burst through the door, she turned her eyes his way; eyes full of accusation, blame, and hatred.  
  
Sick of being the object of such unwarranted hate, Spike grew angry. "Stop staring at me," he snapped. "I'm still chipped, so whatever you think I did, you were dreaming. Get over it."  
  
"Think?" she nearly shouted. "I know what you did. I was there," she whispered harshly. "If you touch me, I'll kill you." Her eyes flashed with conviction, and he had no doubt that at that moment she gladly would have killed him with a song in her heart.  
  
Spike glared at her. "Yeah, okay, Red, you stay here in your delusional world, I'm going back to the real world. You oughta try it some time." He stomped down the hall to the kitchen, but then turned back around. He went into the bathroom again, stood directly in front of her and swung his fist at her. He reared back in pain, not even coming close to touching her. Clutching his head, he left her crying on the floor of the bathroom.  
  
Willow stared at the spot Spike had just vacated, still seeing him in her mind's eye, grabbing his head in pain after taking a swing at her.  
  
It was him. Chipped Spike.  
  
She stood up slowly, her brow furrowed. That wasn't the only weirdness. She had no idea how she'd gotten to Giles' apartment. Wasn't she supposed to be in the hospital? And there was no blood on the walls and floor.  
  
She thought back to earlier that night, before everything had fallen apart, trying to remember what had happened. Suddenly it all came flooding back.  
  
Willow jumped up and ran after Spike. She found him sitting on the stairs by the street, smoking a cigarette. She sat down next to him.  
  
"It wasn't you," she said quietly. "I thought you were him, but I was just confused, because one minute I'm there, and then I'm here, and there's no blood, and I don't understand what's going on," she finished with a sigh, leaning against him slightly.  
  
He stiffened, and jerked away from her. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Witch?" He looked appalled.  
  
Willow sniffled and scooted away from him. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I thought you were my friend." She knew she sounded pathetic, but she couldn't help it. She was confused, and could still see Giles' body laying on the floor, covered in blood. Still feel the pain in her neck and shoulder.  
  
Spike jumped to his feet and stared down at her. "Friends? I don't even like you. How could you possibly think I'd be friends with you? With any of you?" He threw his cigarette into the street angrily, and kicked the curb. "God, what will it take for you people to remember that I'm evil? Three months of being implanted and you all think I'm just like you. I'm not, got it?"  
  
Willow stared at him. "Three months?" She snorted rudely. "Try a year and a half, Fangless. And you don't have to be rude. I get it." She got to her feet and walked away.  
  
"Seek a psychiatrist's help, love, you obviously need it," he called after her. She paused and turned back to face him. "I've been chipped for three months. Believe me, if it lasts much longer, I'll stake myself."  
  
Willow stared at him. "What's the date?" she asked, not sure she wanted to know.  
  
"February something."  
  
She shook her head, a frown marring her brow. "It's September."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. "It's February of two thousand. Why am I even bothering? Look, Witch, just go find one of your little friends and leave me alone."  
  
His attitude rankled her, so she took out all her anger and frustration on him. "You're just trying to mess with my head," she told him, as if she had figured out his secret. "It's September of two thousand and one, and you and I *are* friends, albeit the kind that taunt, and take great delight in torturing each other. Buffy's mom is dead, you brought her flowers. Buffy's sister is... do you remember Dawn? And now Giles and Buffy are dead too, you killed them. And you bit me," she added in a small voice, as if this offense were worse than all the others. "Only it wasn't you."  
  
She knew she wasn't making a whole lot of sense, but she was starting to panic. This couldn't be February of two thousand, she remembered all the other stuff that had happened. She started pacing back and forth, muttering to herself, ignoring Spike.  
  
"I have a girlfriend named Tara. Giles owns the Magic Box. Riley left for Belize. Glory was a Goddess. You're in love with Buffy."  
  
"What?" Spike demanded.  
  
She stopped and smiled brilliantly, finally getting it. "Time travel. I've somehow gone back in time. I don't know why, or how, or even if this is real. It's possible I'm dreaming this, but I don't feel like I'm dreaming. I certainly wouldn't dream you like this. Oh! I'll prove it to you."  
  
He was still staring at her, his eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, still stuck back at that last statement. She sighed, but truthfully, she felt better now that she'd figured out what was going on.  
  
"In a year, actually less, you'll realize you've fallen in love with Buffy." She shook her finger at him, feeling like her old self again. "She doesn't feel the same way, so be forewarned."  
  
He closed his eyes for a second, then stormed past her, into Giles' apartment. By the time she joined him, and shut the door behind her, he was downing a mug of something. From the smell, she knew it wasn't blood. Her suspicions were confirmed when he grabbed a bottle of scotch off the counter and poured another drink, downing it too.  
  
She went around the couch, avoiding looking at the spot where Giles' body had lain. The splashes of blood that covered the walls. The stench of death. Those were things of the future, not of the now.  
  
She sat down to wait for the vampire to join her. She was going to give him a history lesson. Future history, she amended.  
  
Spike sat down in the chair in the corner of the room. He was still trying to get his mind around the witch's rambling. Who was Tara? Willow had a girlfriend? Giles had a magic box? Dawn who? Glory who? He loved Buffy?  
  
It was this last one that had him caught up. He'd gulped a third glass before finally joining the redhead in the living room, the bottle in his hand, the empty cup still on the counter. He took a good long swig from the bottle. It was impossible. He, bad-ass vampire, could not be in love with her, bad-ass vampire slayer. Hell, the girl was only shaggable to him when he was under a spell. His eyes flew to the witch.  
  
"You cast a spell. Undo it," he ordered, sounding for all the world like a petulant child. He didn't care. Loving the slayer was not an option.  
  
She shook her head sadly. "I can't, Spike. I already told you... or, I will tell you... or, whatever. It's not a spell, and I can't do a spell to 'make it go away' either." She smiled softly, making him cringe. "Though, I think maybe you're starting to move on. When I last saw you... " her face fell. She was about to lie to him, flat out lie. "She was dead, and you weren't too overly concerned. Of course, I was kind of out of it at the time, so I could be wrong--" seeing his angry glare, she added, "but I'm not. You're over it. Completely. Yep."  
  
He nodded eagerly. "Good, good. Hang on," he said, as something occurred to him. "Now that I know about it, maybe I can stop it from happening."  
  
She shrugged. "Maybe that's why I'm back. To change the future. Especially their deaths, but maybe other stuff too. Like you betraying us to Adam."  
  
He snorted. "And we're supposed to be friends?" he asked snidely.  
  
"Not then we weren't. Well, a little bit. But mostly not. You weren't very nice, you know."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I'm a right bastard," he said, in better spirits now that there was a possibility of changing his future. If she was right. Why was he taking her word for it? She hadn't proved anything yet, and she had said she had proof. Sure, she had on different clothes than she normally wore. Those appallingly bright and fuzzy outfits more suited to colorblind six year olds trying to make their own style, than to college aged young women.  
  
She looked kind of good actually, in her faded blue jeans and short-sleeved green blouse. Low neckline too... a style preferred by most vampires. Even her hair looked different. Longer and softer somehow. He shook himself out of his thoughts, and spoke up, "What's your proof then? Why should I believe all this crap you're spouting?"  
  
She sighed heavily, finding her nails extremely interesting all of a sudden. "You're not gonna like my proof," she said quietly. "Just... don't go all Glory on me, okay?"  
  
"Who?" He shook his head impatiently. "Just get on with it, pet. I can't hurt you even if I do get mad, remember?"  
  
"Right." She smiled. "You're the Vanilla Chip."  
  
He rolled his eyes and stared at the ceiling. "Please tell me I don't actually *like* that name," he spat.  
  
"Absolutely not," she giggled. "That's why I use it."  
  
Spike glared at her. He couldn't imagine actually being friends with the infuriating chit. He couldn't imagine her or her friends letting him get closer than arm's reach, especially if she was right, and he did end up betraying them to this Adam guy.  
  
Willow scooted to the end of the couch closest to him. "All right. Here goes nothing." She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "Um, Drusilla's your sire, not Angelus like we'd assumed, 'cause of what you said to Angel in the school? That first night... you said something like, Angelus was your sire, you're Yoda, I think that's what Xander said. You were turned in eighteen-eighty." She paused, and Spike could see a blush stealing up her cheeks. "You killed your first slayer in nineteen hundred, in China, during the Boxer Rebellion. She gave you that scar on your eyebrow, and after you killed her, Drusilla found you and um, it's like an aphrodisiac, and you... and her... and there was sex," she finished lamely.  
  
Where the hell had she learned all this? Spike thought. He didn't go about telling people the details of his life. Only a few select vampires knew the absolute truth when it came to his life. One was dead, one was crazy as a loon and shagging a fungus demon, and the other had a soul, and was currently residing in L.A., and none of them would have told the witch these details. He jumped up, grabbing her arm. Tight enough to hold her there, but not enough to hurt. "A future me told you all this?" he demanded.  
  
"Yes. You also told some of it to Buffy. She wanted to know how you killed those two slayers." She pulled her arm free, and looked him straight in the eye. "A little advice, Spike? When you tell her, and you're in the alley behind the Bronze--"  
  
"What?" he asked impatiently.  
  
"It'd pretty much be a good idea not to ask Buffy to dance."  
  
Spike started laughing. "Dance, pet? I don't dance with slayers."  
  
"Not the shuffling feet kind of dancing. The other kind."  
  
His eyes shot to hers, knowing exactly what other kind she was talking about.  
  
"Just don't do it. Don't do any of it. Tell her what she needs to know, and leave it at that."  
  
He snickered at her. "Awfully concerned with my well being, aren't you, pet? You sure we're not more than friends?"  
  
She laughed at the idea. "Definitely not more. I have a girlfriend, and you have a thing for Buffy, and... um, well, Harmony comes back a few times."  
  
"Then I'll know to avoid her. Tell me more." Knowing of future events before they happened could be very helpful to him.  
  
"I'm serious, Spike. I mean it. You may not think so now, but I'm only looking out for your best interests. I don't agree with what Buffy did. So just... don't, okay?  
  
"Yeah, right, I won't dance with my enemy," he said dismissively.  
  
She didn't look convinced, and he once again rolled his eyes. His only expression lately, it seemed. "Spike," she said carefully, "look, I'm trying to be a good friend, and Buffy really hurt you that night, and I don't want it to happen again. Not if I can help it."  
  
Spike snorted derisively. "How could the slayer possibly hurt me without staking me?"  
  
"She told you... she said you were beneath her," Willow whispered.  
  
Spike's furious gaze flew to hers, and she nodded unhappily. "How," he asked carefully, "did she know about that? There's no way I'd tell her that. No way," he repeated, trying to convince himself more than Willow. He would never, ever share those details of his former life, especially not with the slayer. Even if he loved her. His eyes were still on the witch in front of him, waiting impatiently, but she wasn't answering his question. Why wasn't she answering his blasted question? "How?" he yelled.  
  
Willow jumped back slightly, biting her lip in that nervous manner he hated. She seemed to be trying to make a decision, so he stood up, stalking toward her. Seeing him approach, she finally yelled, "You. You told me."  
  
And now she was looking all sad again, like he was the most pathetic creature on Earth and needed her pity. He didn't need a bloody thing from this, or any other, human.  
  
Instead of yelling at her some more, he decided to just show her his disbelief by scoffing at her. "Yeah, not likely."  
  
"You did," she insisted. "I went to your crypt after you... well, you chained up Buffy and I was angry, so I went there to, I don't know, chew you out, or do a spell to make you perpetually itchy, or something, but you were all drunk and I couldn't do it."  
  
Spike stared at her for a minute, got slowly to his feet, moved around the couch, and left the apartment. 


	3. What Comes part3

Disclaimer: See chapter 1  
  
PART 3  
  
(February 2000)  
  
Spike went home to his crypt. The familiar setting did little to lighten his mood, which had sunk to unfathomable depths upon hearing three words. He'd hoped to never again hear those words in his life. He'd been hoping for too much. Not only were they thrown at him again, but to be uttered by the slayer of all people. The blond bitch that had ruined his life.  
  
He picked up his television set and threw it against the wall. Next went the stand, and his armchair. The small table beside his chair followed the rest. By the time he was finished, he had calmed somewhat, but he was still furious. He jumped up on the tomb he called a bed, laid down and closed his eyes. He had to force himself to stay still, otherwise he'd be out the door and hunting down the slayer. Since he was still chipped, there wasn't a whole lot he could do to her, and he somehow doubted that pointing at her and laughing would help him feel better.  
  
Vanilla Chip.  
  
He laughed derisively, that's what he'd become. A laughing stock. A joke. He wasn't the big bad anymore, he was William the Bloody awful Poet once again. The old feelings of inadequacy were assaulting him just as they had when he was human. He hated these feelings. Drusilla had sometimes made him feel this way, and a part of him was glad that she was gone. The tiny, minuscule part of him that wasn't missing her with every fiber of his being. He dropped his arm over his eyes and sighed. His life had become crap, why didn't he just end it all? Especially since it wasn't going to get any better, according to Willow.  
  
The door swung open, and he knew without looking who it was.  
  
"Haven't done enough damage yet, Red? Wanna help me stake myself or something? Or, I know, you could tell me more stories about that pansy-assed poof I turn into."  
  
She was right next to him now. He could smell her and her fear, could hear her rapid heartbeat, and he knew that she was about to apologize to him. He took his arm off of his eyes and grabbed her wrist without even looking. He sat up, holding here there, ignoring her pathetic struggle to get free, and swung his legs to the side, jumping down.  
  
"If you even think about saying you're sorry, I'll kill you," he said harshly. He pushed her back, still holding her arm. Step by step, he edged her back until she was against the wall. "I don't need your apology. I don't need your pity. And I sure as hell don't need your friendship."  
  
Her eyes were wide, staring up at him with none of the pity he'd expected. Instead, they were filled with understanding. Something else he didn't need. She was a human, how could she possibly think she understood anything about him? He pushed her back against the wall and got right in her face, his mouth inches from hers.  
  
"I may hang around with you in the future, but I'm sure it's because I'm using you. Maybe for your electronic abilities?"  
  
She stiffened, and he grinned, letting his face turn. He stared at her neck, making sure to show plenty of fang.  
  
"What's the matter?" he asked in mock concern. "Did I hit a nerve?" He stared at her neck again, wanting so much to just sink his fangs into the pale flesh and drink her dry. She shrank away from him, and her hair moved back slightly, giving him the perfect view of a bite mark.  
  
He traced the scar with his fingers, wondering who had bitten her. Hell, they were such *great* friends in the future, maybe she let him feed off of her occasionally.  
  
"Who's the lucky owner of the fangs that did this?" he asked.  
  
She frowned in confusion. "Harmony, but it's on the other side." She lifted her hair slightly and showed him the faint scar on the other side of her neck. Spike barely glanced at it. "And this one?" he asked. He didn't know why he was so interested in this mark, but there was something... odd about it. "Who bit you here?"  
  
Willow slapped his hand away. "No one. I was only bit once. By Harmony. Oh," she said in sudden realization, "and that guy. The Fake you."  
  
"Fake me?" He pushed away from her, needing some distance, otherwise he was going to say to hell with the excruciating pain and bite her anyway.  
  
"Yeah, the Fake Spike," she said angrily. "And you know what? I don't know why I'm bothering. In the past few hours, I have been shot with a crossbow, bitten, and woken up to find Giles dead. No, not just dead," she continued in a harsh voice, holding back the tears. "He'd been beaten, and tortured. He had bite marks all over his neck, his face was a bruised and bloody mess, and he'd been shot through the heart with a crossbow bolt."  
  
Her voice grew quieter, "There was blood everywhere. On the floor, the walls, the furniture. Even on the ceiling," she added, wiping angrily at a tear that had managed to escape. "And then, I found out that Buffy was dead too, and I was in so much pain I couldn't think straight, and then I woke up again, and I find out that none of it happened, and that I've gone back in time, and you're being mean, and I'm finding out that I don't much like you."  
  
She stomped out of the crypt without so much as a backwards glance.  
  
Spike watched her go. She did look like she'd been through hell and back. But what did that have to do with him? He hadn't done anything to her. It was the work of that Fake Spike she kept talking about, not him.  
  
He shrugged. She was gone, and no longer his problem. Out of sight, out of mind.  
  
  
  
Willow was fuming. She stormed through the cemetery, not even caring if something was out there waiting to kill her. The way she felt right now, she'd kill it without even breaking a sweat. Her thoughts were on the vampire she'd just left.  
  
Spike was an ass, how could she have not realized that before? Simple, her mind told her, you never dealt much with him until after Adam was defeated. Still, he was nice to her in her time period.  
  
Maybe he's using you, her mind taunted.  
  
No. She pushed that thought away, like she always did. It was the un-confident part of her that tended to rear its ugly head whenever she was feeling down. There was no reason why a handsome century old vampire wouldn't want to be friends with her. No reason at all, she thought glumly.  
  
She didn't know where she was going, until she got there. Stevenson Hall. Where she and Buffy used to room together. Were still rooming together in this time period.  
  
Where Buffy's first roommate had tried to steal Buffy's soul and kill her.  
  
Where Spike had tried to kill Willow after escaping from the Initiative.  
  
Where Riley and the rest of his team had tried to kill them in the name of science and the re-capture of Hostile Seventeen.  
  
Where the Gentlemen had tried to kill Tara and Willow.  
  
She shuddered, wondering where all the happy memories were. She made her way inside, hoping against hope that the other her wasn't home. She tried to remember where she'd been on this particular night, but since she didn't know the exact date, she had no idea. She'd have to find out as soon as possible.  
  
Keeping her head down to avoid being seen, Willow made her way through the hallway to the door of her old dorm room.  
  
Home sweet home.  
  
She raised her hand to knock on the door, before she realized what she was doing. She'd been worried about drawing attention to herself, and here she was about to knock on her own door. She quickly ran a hand through her hair and pushed the door open.  
  
The room was dark. Empty. Thank goodness, she thought, sighing lightly. She quietly shut the door behind her and flipped on the light. Everything looked just as she remembered it. Their beds, on opposite sides of the room, each with a night stand between them. Computer. Desk. TV. All normal.  
  
Except her. She was alien.  
  
She knelt down at the end of her bed and shoved her hand between the mattress and box spring, pulling out her diary. She wrote in it everyday, even if it was only a sentence, or a word. More importantly, she dated it. She flipped it open, and stared at the last date penned in.  
  
A groan escaped her.  
  
She now knew where her other self was. She also knew that Faith was out of her coma and hell-bent on revenge.  
  
  
  
Spike leaned against the alley wall and sighed. Buffy. The Slayer. And he loved her. Not now, but in the future. Well, not if he could help it. Maybe he should just leave Sunnydale. The only reason he was still here was on the off chance that the gang of misfits could remove the chip. Apparently that doesn't happen though, so why not leave? Go somewhere else. Maybe find a shaman or something to take it out. What was keeping him here?  
  
A noise at the other end of the alley caught his attention. Xander and Giles were standing there like idiots, peering down the alley. Xander was messing with some sort of gun. Spike grinned. He needed a diversion from his thoughts.  
  
He stayed in the shadows until they were close enough to touch, then stepped forward, lighting a cigarette.  
  
"Spike," Xander sighed, sounding annoyingly relieved. He lowered the weapon.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Giles asked.  
  
Spike stared at them. "Me? I'm not the one out of place here."  
  
"For your information, smarty, we've got a rogue Slayer on our hands," Xander told him, fidgeting with the gun some more. "Real psycho killer, too."  
  
Slayers. Great, he thought. It was pretty much a fantasy come true, two slayers to kill and drain, and him with a chip in his head. And here they were, asking him for help. He hated his life. He decided to play along, gain any information he could. He schooled his expression into one of concern. "Sounds serious."  
  
"It is. What do you know?" Giles asked him.  
  
Spike almost snorted in contempt. Of course. Something goes wrong, Spike must know something about it. He forced himself to look and sound helpful. "What do you need?" Besides me to kill you, he thought.  
  
"Her," Xander answered. "Dark hair, yea tall," he held his hand up about shoulder height. "Name of Faith. Criminally insane."  
  
"Have you seen her?" Giles asked.  
  
Spike refrained from beating on the ex-watcher, but just barely. "Is this bird after you?" He really hoped she was, because then maybe, just maybe, she would find them, with his help, and take out the blonde bitch. No more love threat hanging over his head.  
  
Xander nodded. "In a bad way. Yeah."  
  
Spike laid it on thick. "Tell you what I'll do then. Head out, find this girl," and now for the truth, "tell her exactly where all of you are, and then watch as she kills you." He grinned at them. They both stood there gaping at him. Spike rolled his eyes and sighed. "Can anyone of your damn little Scooby club at least try to remember that I hate you all? Just because I can't do the damage myself doesn't stop me from aiming a loose cannon your way. And here I thought the evening'd be dull." He pushed past Xander, purposely bumping into him, and took a long drag off his almost forgotten cigarette.  
  
Xander called after him, sounding exactly like the geek he was. "Go ahead! You wouldn't even recognize her!"  
  
Spike turned around, walking backwards. "Dark hair, this tall, name of Faith. Criminally insane." He turned back around and headed out of the alley. "I like this girl already."  
  
"We're dumb," he heard Xander tell Giles, and he chuckled to himself. They were just now figuring that out? Feeling rather good now, he headed home to his crypt.  
  
  
  
Willow checked the time, willing the printer to go faster, but it wasn't complying. Her other self was going to be home soon, and she'd really rather avoid running into her. Explanations would be long, and what if she didn't have time? She'd decided a few hours ago that she couldn't let it happen again.  
  
She couldn't let all her friends die without at least trying to save them.  
  
Shoving all her misgivings down, ignoring Giles' tks-ing in her head, she'd sat down and typed out all that she could remember of the last year and a half. She'd make sure things were fixed, even if she wasn't still around to fix them herself. Too many things had gone wrong in her time, and she needed to correct them. That had to be why she was here. Right? Briefly, she wondered if she was doing the right thing, messing with the future, but she pushed those thoughts away. The ends would most definitely justify the means.  
  
She glanced at the clock again as the last page was spit into her waiting hand. She placed it on top of the pile on the bed. Turning off the computer, and putting everything back the way it was before she got there, she left with the stack of papers.  
  
She hurried down the hall, keeping her head down, so busy trying to avoid people, that she ran straight into someone. She glanced up automatically. "Oh, I'm sorry. I... oh, Riley, hi."  
  
He gave her one of his patented goofy grins. "Hi. I was actually sort of looking for Buffy. Have you seen her? With this Faith thing, she's kind of freaked. I was worried."  
  
Willow knew exactly where Buffy was at the moment, but when she opened her mouth to tell him, nothing came out. Maybe this was one wrong she couldn't right. On the heels of that thought, a memory surfaced. She wondered if she could warn him. "No, I haven't seen her in a bit. But there is something... Riley, look into her eyes. If you really love her, you'll know." She hated to sound like a vague prophecy, but she didn't want to outright tell him. She had always thought that Riley hadn't noticed Faith in Buffy's body because he didn't love Buffy enough, didn't know her well enough. She had never told anyone else her thoughts, especially Buffy, but they'd always been there.  
  
Riley was smiling a little in confusion. "Um, okay. Thanks. I-- I gotta go. Send her my way would ya, if you see her?"  
  
"Absolutely." They walked out of the dorm together, then went their separate ways. Willow quickly headed to the cemetery and Spike's crypt.  
  
A few minutes later, she knocked loudly on his door and waited. There was no answer, so she ducked her head inside and peeked. It was dark, but she assumed it was empty as well. She pushed the door all the way open and went inside, leaving the door open for the light the moon provided. She looked around for a good hiding spot out in the open. A place that didn't get disturbed often, but was in plain sight.  
  
The place was really too bare, especially after Spike's little temper tantrum last night. She decided on the floor in the corner. He'd be sure to see them when she wanted him to, but not bump into them on accident. She hoped. She set them down, and stepped back. Pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket, she cast a quick glance behind her. The coast was still clear. She spoke the spell, then tossed a handful of herbs into the corner. The pages disappeared. She sighed heavily and put the spell back in her pocket.  
  
"Ah, bloody hell, what do you want?" Spike yelled in frustration from the doorway. "Can't you people just leave me alone?"  
  
Willow shrugged and headed out. She was still angry and hurt from earlier, so she decided to ignore him, and avoid him until she was gone. He was blocking her exit, so she pushed past him. "Go to hell, Spike."  
  
"Oh, it's you." He grabbed her arm as she shoved by him, holding her there.  
  
She stopped just outside the crypt, but didn't turn to face him. "What do you want?" she asked coldly.  
  
He turned her around by her arm, forcing her to look at him. "What's with this second slayer chick? What happens? Maybe I can help." He tried so hard to sound sincere, but Willow knew him too well to be fooled.  
  
She thought for a minute, then glanced at her watch. "Let's see, by now you've already promised to send her after us if you find her. So, yeah, I can really see you helping." She raised an eyebrow at him. "I already know everything you've done, Spike, you can't fool me. Plus, your lies... not so believable to me anymore." She yanked her arm away from him.  
  
Spike glared at her for a few seconds then went inside his crypt.  
  
"You'll meet Faith tomorrow night," she called after him, then left. She needed to get home, to her parent's house. It was the safest and only place to stay. They were gone, if she remembered right, on an overnight conference in New York. They'd be back tomorrow night, but by then she was sure she'd be gone. Back to her time. 


	4. What Comes part4

Disclaimer: See chapter 1  
  
PART 4  
  
(February 2000)  
  
The next night, Spike was in a foul mood. He was at the Bronze, standing under the staircase, having a beer and watching all the people he couldn't eat. What he wouldn't give to be able to just taste warm human blood again. He could get the violence elsewhere, so he didn't actually miss that, just the taste of warm, human blood as it filled his mouth, slid down his throat. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again with a sigh, deciding to head out. A small, feminine body bumped into his, and he stepped back.  
  
"Ooo," the girl said.  
  
When Spike saw who it was, he sighed again. Bugger it, how was he supposed to not fall in love with her if he was constantly confronted by her. "Oh, *you*," he said derisively.  
  
"And you," she said after a second.  
  
"What? Are you keeping tabs on me? You're gonna give me a hard time now?" She looked at him questioningly, and he wondered what her problem was. Was she drunk?  
  
"Um, do I usually give you a hard time?" she asked.  
  
Spike was not amused by her game, whatever it was. "Very funny. Well, you don't have to worry about me drinking." He raised his beer bottle for her to see. "Unless you're here to protect innocent beers." He walked away from her, back under the stairs. Buffy followed him, leaning against one of the supports.  
  
"You're a vampire," she said matter-of-factly.  
  
Spike glared at her. What the hell was she playing at? "Was. And as soon as I get this chip out of my head, I'll be a vampire again. But until then, I'm just as helpless as a kitten up a tree. So why don't you sod off?" Her holier than thou attitude was really starting to piss him off, and if she didn't get her smug face out of his sight soon, she'd be sporting a few bruises, chip or not.  
  
"Okay," she said, and started to walk away.  
  
That was it. Now he was brassed off. "Oh, fine! Throw it in my face!" She turned back toward him. 'Spike's not a threat anymore, I'll turn my back! He can't hurt me.'"  
  
"Spike?"  
  
Spike stared at her. She said his name and was looking at him like she didn't know who he was. Then suddenly, recognition flashed in her eyes.  
  
"Spike." She smiled at him, looking too damn sexy for her own good. She walked back, and stood right in front of him. "William the Bloody with a chip in his head. I kind of love this town."  
  
Spike snorted rudely. "You know why I really hate you, Summers?"  
  
She answered him cheerfully. "'Cause I'm a stuck-up tight-ass with no sense of fun?"  
  
Spike was caught off guard. "Well-- yeah, that covers a lot of it."  
  
"'Cause I could do anything I want, and instead I choose to pout and whine and feel the burden of Slayerness?" She shrugged. "I mean, I could be rich. I could be famous. I could have anything." She paused meaningfully. "Anyone."  
  
She moved closer to him, and put her hands on his chest. Their faces were only inches apart now. Spike backed up until he ran into one of the supports, and wasn't able to go any further. Buffy stayed right with him, every step he took. What the hell was the bitch up to now?  
  
"Even you, Spike." Her voice was sultry, and Spike found himself responding to her despite himself. "I could ride you at a gallop until your legs buckled and your eyes rolled up. I've got muscles you've never even dreamed of. I could squeeze you until you pop like warm champagne and you'd beg me to hurt you just a little bit more. And you know why I don't?"  
  
Her mouth was very close to his, and Spike considered kissing her, but only for a second. He kept silent, not voicing his interest.  
  
"Because it's wrong," she said with a chuckle, then stepped around him, and backed away. Spike glared at her, and she grinned back.  
  
"I get this chip out," he said menacingly, "you and me are gonna have a confrontation."  
  
"Count on it," she told him, sounding just as menacing, before walking away.  
  
Spike turned around, and hurled his bottle against the wall. He needed to kill something. Preferably someone. Damn this bloody chip, he growled silently.  
  
He stalked across the club towards the door, shoving his way through a couple of teenagers. The implant went off, sending waves of pain throughout his head. He held his head with his hand, waiting for the pain to subside, then continued on his way out.  
  
  
  
Willow left the Bronze through the same door Spike had just stormed through. She had known, from talking to Future Spike, that he'd had an encounter with Faith in Buffy's body, but he hadn't elaborated. When he'd spoken of it, his jaw would clench, and his eyes would turn cold. So, last night, when Willow had told him about meeting up with Faith, she'd been trying to tell him without telling him. She figured it was what would happen after she was gone that would matter in the long run.  
  
Curiosity had forced her into the Bronze, despite knowing she might bump into Tara or herself, or any of the others. She was wearing a sort of disguise, in so much as it was an outfit that she wouldn't have been seen in a year or two ago.  
  
The black skirt that fell to mid-thigh, was something Buffy had left at Willow's house during the summer. A white tank top under a powder blue button up shirt that she'd tied instead of buttoning, completed the outfit. She had pulled her hair back on the sides, and secured it with a gold barrette, and finished her disguise with a light layer of make-up.  
  
Anybody who knew her wouldn't be fooled for too long. But, she hoped to avoid them all anyway. And if they did see her, hopefully they'd dismiss her as someone they didn't know, because Willow didn't wear clothes like these. She felt kind of free, like she could do anything she wanted. The feeling was similar to the one she'd had on Halloween when she'd gotten her body back and ditched the ghost costume.  
  
She headed toward the cemetery, and Spike's crypt. She didn't really like this Spike very much, but she had seen the hate and pain on his face after Buffy/Faith left. Even if he was a jerk, she still hated to see him in pain. He was going to be her friend in a year or so, and what kind of a friend would she be if she didn't try to help him?  
  
When she got to his mausoleum, she found the door open and the crypt empty. She looked around the moonlit cemetery, but couldn't see much. The moon was half hidden by clouds, and there were too many trees to let what little light was shining get through, so she went inside, hopped up on his coffin-cum-bed, and waited.  
  
Sitting in the darkness, there wasn't a whole lot to do except think. Which was the one thing she didn't want to do. Had avoided doing, until now. She didn't want to remember that one of her best friends was dead. And Giles. The man who'd been more of a father to her than her own father. He was like that with all of them. Even to Spike in some respects. And now they were dead. Maybe Xander and Anya were too. And Tara.  
  
Pain lanced through her, overwhelming her.  
  
She closed her eyes, shutting out the thoughts. A small relaxation spell helped her focus her attention away from the pain and death of the future. The possibly-not-going-to-happen-if-she-had-anything-to-say-about-it future.  
  
Ten minutes later, she started to doze off, so she laid down and covered up with Spike's blanket. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. His pillow smelled like him, and she found herself suddenly missing him. Missing her Spike, not the mean Spike from this time. She missed their conversations, and the taunting, and teasing. She even missed having him follow her around just to tell her his most disgusting stories. She snuggled closer to his pillow and fell asleep.  
  
  
  
Spike threw the demon against a headstone and smashed his fist into its face. The demon, a big brown thing with scales all over it, horns on its head, and claws for hands, howled in fury and pain. Spike had no idea what kind of a demon it was, or how to kill it, nor did he care. He'd needed to take out his anger and frustrations on something, and since humans, or, more specifically, Buffy, wasn't something he could hurt anymore, he'd attacked the first creature he came across. And then the second. And the third. They'd been vampires, and now he was working on this ugly demon.  
  
Spike picked it up over his head, and heaved it a good twenty feet. The thing jumped up to face Spike, as he ran over to it. He took a few good punches in the stomach and face, but he barely felt them. The blow to the side of his head however, dropped him, and his sight went black for a moment. He jumped up and grinned, having the time of his life.  
  
The demon did a back-flip away from Spike, but he was undeterred. He stalked toward it, grabbed its arms and pulled it forward, head butting it. Old Scaly let out a horrible, ear-piercing howl and fell to the ground, unmoving. Spike stared at it, wondering if it was dead. He listened for a heartbeat, but couldn't hear one. Shrugging, he pulled a stake from his duster pocket, plunged the piece of wood into the demon's chest, and watched in satisfaction as Scaley turned into a puddle of brown goo and soaked into the grass.  
  
Sticking the stake back into his pocket, he stretched, working out the kinks in his sore muscles. His other pocket held a flask of scotch, which he took out and downed.  
  
"Ahhh, bracing," he said, holding the flask up to the brown goo. The goo remained silent, so he got up and headed home. He was drunk, and happy. Three beers at the Bronze, a bottle of whiskey, and a flask full of scotch, and he was well in his cups by now. Fighting had relieved most of his stress and frustration. Two bags of blood from Willy's had helped. Drinking had relieved the rest. Now all he needed was a good shag, and he could die happily. For tonight was the night he was going to kill himself.  
  
His one and only love was off with one demon or another, she didn't love him anymore. He was a laughing stock in the demon community, and he was dependant on the slayer and her kin.  
  
It was time to end it. And this time Willow and Xander weren't going to stop him.  
  
A dive from his bed to a stake below, and he'd be no more.  
  
He was actually looking forward to dying. He whistled to himself as he went inside his crypt.  
  
The whistle died on his lips when he heard a heartbeat inside, then saw the small feminine body curled up under his blankets. He closed his eyes in impatience, shut the crypt door, and stomped over to his bed. Red hair. Gosh, I wonder who it could be, he thought sarcastically.  
  
She was smiling in her sleep, looking so sweet that he had to fight the urge to snap her neck. She rolled onto her back and flung her arm out, hitting his hand. He found himself staring down at it, feeling the warmth pouring off of her in waves. He touched her hand with his own, and intertwined their fingers.  
  
She moaned, and turned over again, taking her hand with her. The sudden loss of her hand created an empty, cold feeling within him, but he shook it off.  
  
He was still going to kill himself, he'd just have to take the plunge elsewhere. Maybe from the top of the crypt. She'd never even know he'd been there. He turned away, and started rifling through his things, looking for a drawing Angelus had done of Dru. Spike had taken it, and others, from Angelus' sketch book when he'd been stuck in the wheelchair.  
  
He found what he was looking for and put the folded paper in his duster pocket, casting a glance at the sleeping girl. She whimpered quietly, and rolled over again, obviously in the throes of a nightmare.  
  
"Buffy, no," she cried out softly.  
  
Spike's bleary eyes narrowed at the mention of the blonde bitch. "Figures." Probably dreaming about her dying. After what the slayer had said and done to him tonight, he hoped it was a painful, torturous death. It was what she deserved.  
  
"That's mean," Willow whispered.  
  
Already on his way out, Spike spun around, wondering if the witch was reading his mind. But, no, she was still asleep, and even more agitated. She screamed suddenly, startling him. "No, Spike, don't," she whimpered. There was more hurt and pain in that one statement than she'd shown when telling him of the recently dead Buffy and Giles. He found himself moving closer to her, wanting to hear more. Wanting to know what he'd done to hurt her so much. He knew hurt, he knew pain, and it never ceased to fascinate him. It was even downright enjoyable when it came to the Slayer.  
  
The alcohol was screwing with his mind, because if he was sober, he never would've reached out to touch her. To smooth back a lock of her hair.  
  
"Don't touch me," she cried, shrinking away from him in her dream. Spike jerked his hand back. "Just... please. Leave me alone," she whispered, sounding as broken as he'd felt when Dru had left him.  
  
Whatever she was dreaming about, or reliving, it was tearing her apart. Spike felt the unfamiliar need to comfort her. The only person he'd ever comforted besides himself, was Dru. And he didn't like this feeling at all. She was a naive, stupid little witch who couldn't get even the simplest spells to work right.  
  
Spike once again started out of the crypt, but stopped and turned when he heard her whisper his name.  
  
She was sitting up, looking at him. Her green eyes wide and trusting. She pulled the blanket off and swung her legs over the side of the sarcophagus, jumping down to walk over to him.  
  
Spike hardly heard what she was saying as she approached him. That small black skirt she was wearing hugged her hips like a second skin, the hem swaying against her thighs with every step she took. The blue button up blouse, tied at her waist, was open and revealing, even with the white tank top underneath.  
  
Willow had a body. Who knew? Fit and trim, and rounded in all the right places. Long skirts, and cute little shirts be damned, if she dressed like this in the future, he knew why he was hanging around her.  
  
She was looking at him expectantly. "What?" he asked.  
  
"I said, I'm sorry. Um, you know, about what Buffy said tonight. It... it wasn't really her. It was--"  
  
"None of your business," he ground out, seething with anger and humiliation. She'd witnessed the display? Or had Buffy told her about it in the future? Either way, it angered him more. It was one thing to be taken down a few pegs in private, it was another thing to have witnesses.  
  
She shook her head, her softly curled hair flying around her face. Spike once again found himself mesmerized. Damn, he'd have to not drink around her in future. What future? he thought, you're killing yourself as soon as you get rid of her.  
  
"No," she was saying. "I mean, it really wasn't Buffy. It was Faith. You know, the other slayer?"  
  
"What's that, like, the other white meat?" he asked sarcastically. It didn't matter to him. One slayer was pretty much like another, and when all was said and done, he'd still been humiliated.  
  
A flash of humor crossed her face and she grinned. "Something like that."  
  
She was standing so close to him that her heat was warming him. He took a step closer to her, before he caught himself.  
What the hell was he doing? He needed to get rid of her. Now. He needed to humor her, agree with everything she said, anything, just get her out of there before he did something he'd regret.  
  
"Great. I'm happy again. So, you can go now." He smiled broadly and waited for her to leave.  
  
She tilted her head to the side, studying him. "What are you up to?" she asked suspiciously.  
  
"Me?" he scoffed. "Nothing. Not a thing. Bye." Her eyes narrowed and he cursed himself. He'd laid it on too thick. Rolling his eyes, he tried to push past her, but she stopped him. "Oh, go on now," he told her, "can't you see you're not wanted here?"  
  
She closed her mouth on what she'd been about to say and looked away. He'd hurt her? Good.  
  
Who'd she think he was, one of her little friends? His future-self, the Angel wannabe? Good thing he was offing himself, he thought, shuddering in revulsion. "Oh, did I hurt you? Good on me then," he told her. "Leave now. I'm busy."  
  
"Why do you always have to be so mean?" she asked angrily. "God, you gonna call me a high school loser again? Or tell Xander--" and then her eyes widened and she smacked him on the side of the arm. In his drunken state, he stumbled back a few steps, falling out the door, and tripping down the step. "You're gonna try to kill yourself again!"  
  
"Am not!" He backed away from her, and held his hands up in innocence.  
  
"I know that look. I saved you the last time, remember? Which wasn't that long ago." Suddenly, she jumped toward him, reached into his duster pocket, and pulled out the stake, holding it up and glaring at him.  
  
He shrugged nonchalantly. "I need protection too, ya know. And I also happen to like violence, and if the only way I can get that is to kill demons, then so be it. Don't know what nancy-boy me told you in the future, but I still like to kill."  
  
Willow nodded, not at all shocked by his revelation. "I know, Spike. I mean, hello. You're a demon, of course you like violence. I'm not stupid." She flashed him a mischievous grin. "I once called you tame... in the nicest way, of course," she rushed to assure him, "and you followed me around for a whole week telling me of your exploits. From railroad spikes to Drusilla's high heel. I don't think I ate that whole week."  
  
He chuckled deeply. "Told you about that one, did I?" He looked her up and down. "And yeah, I'd agree on the eating part. You're too skinny." The appreciative glint in his eyes belied his words.  
  
Completely missing his approval, she scowled in mock anger, tossing the stake from hand to hand. "Hey. I told you not to call me skinny, Vanilla."  
  
His grin faded, and he grabbed the stake from her.  
  
A veil of sadness seemed to drop over her features. "Or I will tell you. If you don't kill yourself."  
  
"I already told you, Red. I'm not gonna kill myself. So, just leave. Go bug someone else."  
  
"I can't. They've already got a 'me'. And there'd be too many questions. And my parents came home tonight, so I can't stay there again without risking being found out. Also, the whole Faith thing is coming to a head tonight. So, pretty much... " she took a deep breath. "I was wondering, you know, if you don't mind, and if you aren't going to be a grouch about it... if I could, well, stay here."  
  
Spike sighed, rolled his eyes, threw his arms up and just generally tried to make it known that he was not happy about this. But, the thought of her wandering around outside with no place to stay didn't appeal to him either. He didn't know why he cared, but he did. Besides, if his future self found her company and friendship worthwhile, then he guessed she couldn't be all that bad. Ah hell, he thought, what happened to wanting to kill yourself?  
  
"Fine. Do what you want," he said gruffly, walking back inside the crypt.  
  
She grinned and followed him. "Thank you, Spike." She hopped up on the edge of the bed and watched as he shoved a piece of paper into a drawer in the table. "Is that Dru's picture?" she asked.  
  
He spun around, his face hard and resentful. "God, what didn't I tell you about?" he yelled angrily. Dru was his, not a thing, not a secret to share. *He* loved her, *he* missed her, *he* wanted to die because he didn't have her anymore. Not *her*!  
  
Faced with his sudden, drunken anger, Willow shrank back, no doubt remembering when he'd kidnapped her and the moron. He tended to be one of two things when he drank. Sappy, or violent. And given the fact that he was a demon, violent usually won out.  
  
She tossed a sideways glance at the door.  
  
Seeing her afraid, and smelling her fear, was like ambrosia. He wanted to keep her afraid, to drink in the smell of her fear like he couldn't drink her blood.  
  
She was watching him closely, her eyes wide and fearful, untrusting. He liked it. She took a step toward the door and he moved. He was in front of her in a second, grabbing her arm roughly. He'd have to be careful, couldn't hurt her enough to set off his chip. Good thing it didn't mind mental pain.  
  
He sneered at her gasp. He was drunk, and she knew it. He was also extremely turned on by her. He hauled her up against him, and she knew that too. He slid his hand down her back, pressing her against him. His other hand caressed her cheek, his thumb brushing along her jaw.  
  
She pushed against him, turning her face away. "Spike, let me go. You're drunk."  
  
She was wriggling around, trying to get away, and he was loving every second of it. Her soft body was touching every inch of his. He grabbed her jaw, turning her face back to his. "Yeah, pet, I am drunk," he agreed, his lips hovering an inch above hers. "Come on, you can't tell me we haven't done this before. All that stuff I tell you in the future? Gotta be getting something in return."  
  
She stared at him, hurt in her eyes. "We haven't. I wouldn't, and you--future you--knows it. Let me go," she begged.  
  
"No," he whispered, his voice husky, his eyes burning into hers. He backed her into the sarcophagus, and pressed himself against her, holding her with his body. Cradling her face in his hands, he lightly pressed his mouth to hers, halfway expecting her to bite him. He was pleasantly surprised when she didn't.  
  
One small taste of her was satisfying, and yet, nowhere near enough. He traced her mouth with his tongue and pressed his lips to hers, softly at first, then more demandingly. His mouth moved over hers hungrily, his fingers threading through her hair, and still she didn't fight him. She had to know that if she truly fought him, he'd have to let her go, since the chip wouldn't let him hurt her. Not that he wanted to hurt her, he didn't need to force women into his bed. They fell into it.  
  
He raised his head and looked down at her.  
  
She stood there, not doing anything, not fighting him, not responding in any way. That was more frustrating than if she'd fought him off. Indifference wasn't something that turned him on.  
  
Her hands were fisted at her sides, her eyes closed, her face blank. She opened her eyes when he stepped away from her and dropped his hands. He could see the anger, fear, hurt, and guilt there.  
  
Guilt? What the hell for? Did she actually consider that passionless kiss, cheating on her girlfriend? He turned his back on her angrily.  
  
Willow blinked in confusion. She was free of Spike, but she felt empty. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? He was drunk, and not *her* Spike, and she didn't think about Spike like that anyway. He was her friend, nothing more. She liked him, but she didn't love him. She loved Tara. Not Spike.  
  
So, why then did she feel like she'd just lost something she hadn't even realized she wanted until it was gone? And she did want it. Him. She wanted him. Willow wanted Spike. Damn him and his sexy good looks and sexy voice and accent and... damn her for being the type of person who always wanted someone other than the person she was in a relationship with.  
  
It didn't matter, she decided. She couldn't, and wouldn't, sleep with Spike. She wasn't about to screw up another relationship. She'd just have to hide her attraction to him, and pretend it never happened. And getting out of here would be step one.  
  
Spike was standing a few feet away. He hadn't moved since turning away from her, and she was grateful. It would allow her to slip out unnoticed. She moved past him quietly and had her hand on the door when he grabbed her again.  
  
He spun her around, pushed her up against the door and pressed himself to her. She gasped, both at the anger in his actions and the feel of his body against hers. She tried to push him away, but he was bigger and stronger, and not in the mood to play games. He kissed her again, but there was no soft tenderness this time, it was hard and punishing, and more sensual than a kiss had a right to be.  
  
Her hands, which had been pushing him away, were now pressed uselessly against his chest, trapped between them. He pulled back, grinning at her, his eyes full of promise.  
  
"Here's the thing, Red, you and me, we're gonna end up shagging. So, we might as well get it out of the way now. What do you say?"  
  
She snorted at him. "Arrogant, much?"  
  
"No," he said seriously. "Well, yeah, but I don't need to be to know that you want me. Maybe it doesn't show in your face or your eyes, but you can't slow your heartbeat." He leaned forward and lightly nipped the pulse point in her neck. "Can't cover the smell of your arousal either." He ran his tongue over her skin, kissing her shoulder.  
  
Willow gasped and arched into him. His lips traced a path along her neck while his hands caressed her back. His touch felt so good. Better than Oz. Better than-- Tara. Think of Tara. She shoved at him, and he let her go, confidence radiating off of him in waves.  
  
"I have a--"  
  
"Girlfriend. Yeah, I know. You've told me at least ten times now," he smirked, following her as she paced away from him.  
  
"And you and I--" She moved out of his grasp as he reached for her.  
  
"Are friends. Know that too, pet." He once again tried to grab her, but she escaped again.  
  
Willow moved quickly around the coffin, trying to get away from him. "We've never--"  
  
"Done this. I know. First time for everything." He jumped up on the coffin and crouched down, watching her like the predator he was. She backed away from him, and made a dash for the door. He jumped from the coffin and easily caught her from behind, pressing her back against him, one hand snaking around her stomach, the other brushing the hair from her neck.  
  
Willow shivered at his touch. What was happening to her? She'd touched Spike plenty of times before, usually in jest or anger, but never in this manner, and never had it felt so good. His lips played along her neck, while his hands untied her top shirt. He pulled it off of her and dropped it to the floor, sliding his hands underneath her tank top.  
  
The feel of his hands touching her so intimately sent shivers of anticipation through her. All thoughts of Tara fled her mind. She turned around in his embrace and waited. Waited for him to kiss her. He wasted no time in pressing his lips to hers, kissing her with so much hunger she was left wondering who it was for.  
  
But then she stopped wondering, and started kissing him back.  
  
He gave a throaty chuckle and backed her up until she was pressed up along the sarcophagus again. His tongue traced her lips, then slid inside her mouth.  
  
She pressed herself to him and pulled his duster off his shoulders, dropping it to the floor and sliding her hands down his back. Next went his red shirt and black T-Shirt.  
  
He swept his hands under her tank top and pushed it up slowly, exposing her skin inch by inch. She grabbed the hem and yanked it off, tossing it across the crypt.  
  
Spike laughed and hauled her back against him. "Impatient?"  
  
Impatient? Definitely. Yes. She wanted him with every fiber of her being, and she didn't care if she had to sacrifice her modesty and pride to have him. Where had this wanton part of her come from? she thought briefly. Very briefly.  
  
Her hands fumbled with the buttons on the back of her skirt, but she couldn't seem to undo it. He pushed her hands away and turned her around. He knelt behind her and leaned in close, his lips trailing along her waist and back as his hands undid the button. An electric heat pulsed through her every time he touched her. Feeling weak-kneed, she leaned against his bed.  
  
He unzipped the skirt and slid it down her thighs, pressing feather-soft kisses on her exposed skin. Willow stepped out of the material and turned back around at the same time as he stood up. She unhooked her bra and dropped it to the floor with the rest of her clothes.  
  
Fighting the urge to turn away or hold her hands up to cover herself, she allowed his eyes to roam over her. The appreciative grin on his face was enough to reassure her. He lifted her up and sat her on his bed, leaning forward to kiss her stomach lightly.  
  
"Not bad," he smirked, his grin widening as he trailed kisses along her abdomen. Willow felt a ridiculous sense of joy at his admiration. The desire and hunger she felt for Spike was different than what she'd experienced before. Oz was tender and mellow. Tara was loving and sweet.  
  
Spike was fire and passion.  
  
She sucked in a breath when she felt his mouth on her breast, his tongue flicking the nipple. She arched her back and combed her fingers through his hair, holding his mouth to her breast. His hair was so soft. As long as she'd known Spike, she'd never touched his hair. It was something she'd always wondered about. It looked so soft and inviting to the touch.  
  
His mouth left her breast, leaving her feeling bereft. She opened her eyes to see him tossing his socks to the floor. She waited and watched in anticipation as he unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down his hips, then stepped out of them. No underwear, she wasn't surprised. He was gorgeous. All muscles and lines and hard, pale flesh.  
  
He stood still, completely naked, letting her look her fill. Warmth shot through her stomach at the evidence of his arousal. He closed the distance between them and climbed beside her on the coffin. Her eyes, filled with heat and longing, met his.  
  
He pushed her back, and laid next to her, splaying his hands on her stomach. She leaned forward and kissed his chest, her tongue darting out to flick his nipple as he'd done hers. He groaned, and closed his eyes, encouraging her to touch him some more. Feeling bold, Willow slid her hand along his stomach, delighting in the way his flesh rippled under her touch, then moved her hand lower. He pulled back with a gasp, and she saw the surprised expression on his face.  
  
She couldn't help but laugh. "I'm not exactly a virgin," she told him.  
  
Spike rolled his eyes and kissed her deeply. "So I noticed."  
  
He knelt over her, pulling her panties off, and she shivered at the feel of his hands on her legs and stomach. It was extremely intimate and arousing. She laid back and enjoyed the sensations and feelings he was invoking as he kissed his way up her legs, around to the inside of her thigh and higher--  
  
She nearly shot up off the bed when his mouth pressed against her. He grinned and flicked his tongue against her clit. She arched her hips, tangling her hands in the blankets underneath her. The tingling wave of heat working its way through her body was driving her wild.  
  
She whimpered, wanting him inside of her, now. She sat up, pulling him up as well. She kissed him, hard, then laid back, taking him with her.  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "There's that impatience again," he teased.  
  
She moved her hands along his chest, around his back and down further, pressing him to her.  
  
He got the message and slid inside of her, holding himself still. Pain shot through her and she gasped, unused to the feeling of a man inside her. A few seconds later, the pain passed and pleasure replaced it. He was watching her, waiting. She nodded and held him closer. He dipped his head down and caught her lips, moving out of her at the same time.  
  
He thrust into her and she arched against him. After only a few thrusts, he suddenly tore his lips from hers and buried his head in her shoulder. She ran her hands through his hair and tried to bring his mouth back to hers, but as he continued to thrust in and out of her, he kept his head down.  
  
She suddenly understood. He couldn't look at her, not if he wanted to imagine he was with Drusilla. Her caressing hands shoved at him, trying to push him off of her.  
  
"Stop," she bit out, "get off of me. Get off," she yelled.  
  
"Willow," he ground out. "Stop it." He raised his head and she stared into his yellow eyes and ridged forehead.  
  
"Then stop thinking about Drusilla," she demanded, hating the hurt evident in her voice.  
  
His face returned to normal, and she saw the confusion in his eyes. "What the hell are you talking about?" he groaned.  
  
She looked away, suddenly unsure. Maybe he hadn't been thinking about Drusilla. Maybe he just didn't want to look at Willow. Maybe he was already regretting sleeping with her, and they were still in the act, God, what if--  
  
Spike sighed heavily, and rested his forehead against hers. "Willow, can't you just stop thinking for a few minutes and enjoy yourself?" She could hear the strain in his voice, and she felt guilty for being the cause of it, but she had to know.  
  
"Then why won't you look at me?" she whispered.  
  
His laughter shook her, and sent delightful shivers down her spine. "Is that what this is about?"  
  
She nodded, and he pulled back to look at her. "I didn't want to scare you. Or disgust you."  
  
She frowned in confusion. "How--"  
  
He vamped out, and looked down at her. "Like this," he told her.  
  
She reached up and touched his forehead and cheek. "I've seen you like this a lot of times, and it hasn't disgusted me yet." She leaned forward and kissed him, fangs and all. "Kinda sexy," she said with a wink.  
  
He laughed and kissed her back, being careful not to cut her... too much. A little nip wouldn't hurt her. He hoped.  
  
They kissed deeply, and she ran her hands down his back, urging him to begin again. He complied, pulling out of her and thrusting back in again. He didn't turn away this time. He kept his eyes locked with hers when they weren't kissing.  
  
He thrust faster, knowing she was close. She was panting, and arching up against him with wild abandon. His own climax was approaching, and he decided to speed hers up. He leaned down and nipped her neck lightly with his fangs, licking the blood that seeped out. She tightened around him, screaming his name.  
  
While she was in the throes of ecstasy, he bit deeper into her neck. She came again, and he grinned.  
  
He drank deeply from her and found his own release a few seconds later, thrusting into her one last time. She held him close, pressing his fangs even deeper into her flesh.  
  
After recovering from their love making, Willow snuggled into Spike's side, closing her eyes in contentment.  
  
"Now *that*, is something I could never imagine wanting to do with Slutty the Vampire Slayer," Spike chuckled.  
  
"Me either," Willow said with a disgusted shudder, making him laugh. Realizing how callous that sounded, she tried to explain. "No, no, I mean, because, you know, there are some people you never, ever want to think about in a sexual way, or having sex with, and, well, Buffy's one of those for me. She's a friend, I'd just never want to sleep with her... in the non-sleeping sense of the word."  
  
Spike pulled the sheet up around her, covering her chilled body. "I get it, love. Every one of your friends are on that list for me."  
  
"Same here, except, of course, Tara. And Oz. Ow." She pulled away from his suddenly tight grip and slapped his chest lightly. "Let up with the manhandling, 'cause, ow."  
  
"Sorry." He sat up, giving her a quick kiss on the lips, then walked, completely naked, over to his duster and grabbed a pack of cigarettes, and his lighter.  
  
She watched him, loving the way he moved. He was like a giant cat, all sinewy grace. And this would be the one and only time she'd get to see him like this, so she had to get her fill. He lit a cigarette and sat back down next to her. She ran her hand lightly up and down his back, making him shiver.  
  
"Ready for seconds already?" he asked in amusement. "Or should I say thirds?" He tossed her a grin and swung back around toward her.  
  
She looked away from him, not wanting him to see the sadness in her face. She didn't know how he would feel if he knew this was the only time she was going to let this happen. Maybe he didn't even want it to happen again. Either way, it wouldn't be happening again, and she was depressed. She kissed him softly, but thoroughly, saying with her lips what she couldn't say with words.  
  
Spike watched her as she laid back down, resting her head on his knee. His eyes narrowed. If she thought this was a one time deal, she was sadly mistaken. But they'd worry about that later.  
  
In love with Buffy, huh? Not if he could help it. Substitute one woman for another. Worked in theory.  
  
He smoked his cigarette, and ran his hands absently through her hair. It was shoulder length, longer than Willow's hair in this time. He liked this style better than the other, and he hoped she continued to grow it out. There was nothing more erotic than seeing a woman with her hair spread out on your pillow. He looked down. Or your leg. 


	5. What Comes part5

Disclaimer: See chapter 1  
  
PART 5  
  
(February 2000)  
  
Spike pulled Willow closer to him in his sleep, hugging her soft body to his. She squished against him, and he groaned, throwing the pillow aside and searching for Willow and her warm body. When he didn't find her next to him, he opened his eyes and searched the crypt. She wasn't there. He sat up, his jaw clenching. Damn her. She was bound and determined to piss him off at every turn. He'd decided last night wasn't going to be a one time thing, and he meant it, so where did she get off leaving him?  
  
Next time he should tell her his decisions, he thought with a chuckle.  
  
He got dressed and smoked a cigarette before checking for daylight. There wasn't any; the night had once again claimed the day as its own, so he headed out. He figured he'd pick up a couple of bags of blood, and maybe some food for Willow, then he'd go find her.  
  
Never once did it cross his mind that she wouldn't be there. She was from another time, he knew this, and he accepted it, but he hadn't thought she'd be going back any time soon. He hadn't thought about it at all. Willow was just a part of his life. Had been in one form or another for the past two years. But, now she was gone. The one he liked was gone, the one he'd slept with was gone. And in her place was a replica that was her, but not quite. She didn't share his memories of last night, or the past two days. She didn't even like him. She was afraid of him.  
  
Now Spike knew how Willow had felt with him. Her Spike was different.  
  
His Willow was different.  
  
After searching for her most of the night, Spike headed back home. She wasn't there. He hadn't expected her to be. He put his armchair back where it belonged, but one of the legs was broken, and the chair fell forward. He left it and sat on the sarcophagus instead.  
  
She was gone.  
  
He didn't know how he knew, but he was certain she was. Now, he had to wait a year and a half to see her again. He was an impatient sort, never one for waiting around when there was something to do, or someone to kill. But this time there was nothing to do but wait. Maybe he could work on this Willow. Befriend her, seduce her. Maybe-- no. He would keep an eye on her, and make sure she was safe, but other than that, he would leave her alone. Maybe.  
  
He sighed heavily, dropping his cigarette to the floor and stepping on it. He went to the corner, where the table had, miraculously, fallen in one piece and pulled out the drawings of Dru. Further inside were drawings of Buffy, Willow and Cordelia. Angelus had a good eye. He always managed to capture the person he was drawing. Spike had always thought it was because he drew them in their most vulnerable moments.  
  
In Dru's drawings, she was always looking up at something, a hopeful expression on her face. She looked like a child waiting for a treat. Vulnerable.  
  
Buffy was sleeping, her hand curled slightly, an innocent look on her face. She was younger than today, more trusting. Spike had always been drawn to this sketch. He hadn't known why, but with the information Willow had given him, he wasn't going to examine the reasons.  
  
Cordelia was bent over slightly, her hands on her knees, screaming at whatever horror she was seeing. Most likely the moron being killed.  
  
Willow. He tossed the other drawings aside and examined hers. She was young, much younger than his Willow. She looked vulnerable in every drawing. Whether she was happy or sad or laughing or crying, she looked one word away from breaking apart.  
  
It was weird how things worked out. Two years ago, Spike had been happy and in love. A few months later, he was in hell. Angelus was back, Spike was in a wheel chair and Drusilla was parading around with her precious sire. Back then, when Spike had time in abundance, he'd spent most of it in the mansion. Angelus' sketch pads littered every room in the house, and Spike had taken a few. For spite. For need. For want. For something to do. No matter how he explained it to himself, he ended up with sketch after sketch of Dru, Buffy, Cordelia and Willow.  
  
The weird thing was that he had more of Buffy and Willow than he did of Cordelia, or even Dru. Since he hardly knew the cheerleader, except by sight, there was no mystery there, but why not more of Dru? How had that happened? It was as if he was being forced to make a choice. If he had a choice, he already knew which one he'd pick.  
  
Willow.  
  
But he didn't think it was as simple as that. Nothing in life ever was.  
  
He stood up, tossing all but Willow's drawings inside the coffin. Willow's went back into the drawer of the table. He set the table back in its normal spot by the broken chair. As he straightened up, he spotted a stack of papers in the opposite corner. He didn't remember them being there last night. He picked them up and set them on top of his bed. He sat down and grabbed the top sheet. It was a hand written letter, and he knew it was from Willow.  
  
______________________________________________________________________________________________  
Spike,  
If you're reading this, then the spell worked, and I'm either back in my time, or dead. I choose to believe I'm back in good old 2001, but this being the Hellmouth, both possibilities are... possible.  
  
The spell I'm talking about was a simple one to keep these papers hidden from you until my death, or my departure from this time. (I'm still hoping I'm alive)  
  
Anyway. Earlier today, just after arriving, I got the distinct impression that I wasn't going to be sticking around very long. I was pretty sure I was being sent back to my time. So I typed up everything you need to know to fix things. It's impossible for you to change everything. And I don't expect you to. But, I would be very appreciative if you'd at least try to change some things. Please.  
  
If you don't want to, or can't change these things, then skip to the back, and fix the last one, because I can't stand the thought of Giles and Buffy dying. I don't know this part for sure, but I think Xander and Anya are dead too. Maybe even Dawn and Tara. I know you don't know them, and you never really get to like Tara, but, I love her. So please, keep her safe. And Dawn, you don't know her yet either, but you will. I can't tell you anything about her, but believe me when I say that she is more precious than anything in this world. Not just to me, but to everyone, including you. So keeping her safe is a big priority.  
  
Now, on to the good stuff. Happy reading!  
  
Willow  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Spike flipped through the pages, straight to the end. He wanted to know what had happened to her. When he'd first seen her on Giles' couch, she'd had such a violent reaction to him. And then the nightmare last night.  
He found the part he wanted and began reading.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________  
September, 15, 2001  
  
I knew you couldn't wait, Oh Impatient One. I'm rolling my eyes here, even though you can't see it. Or me.  
  
Anyway. You want to know what happened. It started with a phone call from Giles. He asked me to stop by your crypt because he needed your help with a spell. I was on my way to the Bronze, and saw you just as I was leaving, (lucky break for me) and caught up with you. You were your usual cocky, smart aleck-y self, and then we parted ways.  
  
Now, here's where it gets weird. I walked a block and suddenly you were behind me. I didn't think anything of it at first, even though you had on different clothes. Actually, the same clothes, just different colors. And, gasp, no duster.  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Spike chuckled. The chit thought she was a comedian.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________  
But then you grabbed me and bit me. (It's the bite mark you asked me about) And it hurt more than anything I've ever felt before. Harmony's bite was like a push pin compared to a... um, sorry about the comparison, but, railroad spike. Then you, or rather, Fake Spike, dragged me to Giles' apartment. Long story short, Giles shot a crossbow bolt at him, and he pushed me in front of him. Nice of him, huh? I passed out, and when I woke up, Giles was dead, and the demon (it had to have been some kind of demon, unless you've got an evil twin you've never told anyone about... and yes, I do think I'm funny) was gone. I went outside into the courtyard, because the smell was making me nauseous.  
  
I passed out again. I think I was running on borrowed time at that point. Most of my blood was gone, and shock was taking over. When I woke up this time, you were there, but I didn't know it was you, so I kind of freaked and yelled at you to leave me alone. Sorry. I thought you were Fake You. Does that make sense? I should've known, I mean, you had on the right clothes and everything. I should've just... known. And here I claim to be your friend.  
  
Moving on. You helped me over to the fountain and told me Buffy was dead. I sort of lied to you when I said you were getting over her. You weren't. I could see the pain on your face, though you tried to hide it. Please don't throw this across the room. I know I warned you against falling in love with her, at least, I tried, but I don't think it's something you can stop. I think it's your destiny.  
  
Okay, so where was I? Right. Buffy is dead. Giles is dead. I'm pretty close to death myself, I think. But you helped me. Maybe I made it to the hospital in time. I wanted to thank you for that. You carried me there.  
  
So, I don't know how you can stop this. Or even if you can, but I would appreciate it if you tried.  
  
Be good!  
  
Willow  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
  
  
(September 2001)  
  
Willow woke up reaching for Spike, but she couldn't find him in the soft bed.  
  
Soft bed?  
  
Her eyes flew open, searching the dark room. "Spike?" she whispered. She cleared her throat and tried to speak louder, but a whisper was all she could manage. "Spike?"  
  
"Here." His voice came from the other side of her, cutting through the darkness. She sighed in relief. She hadn't lost him. He was still here. She settled back into bed and closed her eyes.  
  
Where was here?  
  
Her eyes snapped open again, and she tried to sit up, but the pain in her everywhere kept her still. Faintly, the sound of electronic beeping came to her, and she realized she was in the hospital. "Spike?"  
  
He was sitting in a chair beside her bed, looking tired and haggard. He stood up and reached above her. Sudden light filled the room by the bed and she blinked against it.  
  
"Sorry," he mumbled.  
  
She looked down at herself, surprised to see all the tubes and wires connected to her arms. Her heartbeat and pulse, being monitored by the cart of machinery by her head, were faintly beeping. She was covered up to her chin by a glaringly white sheet and sickly yellow blanket.  
  
Hospital. That meant Giles was dead. And Buffy. Dead. They were dead. She'd been shot with a crossbow and bitten.  
  
Tears pricked her eyes. She hadn't gone back in time. It was just a dream, a drug induced dream. But it had seemed so real.  
  
She rolled over onto her side, facing him. A lock of hair fell into her eyes, and she reached up to brush it away. Her muscles were weak, and they didn't want to respond to her simple movements, but eventually she managed to move the hair enough to see again.  
  
Spike was looking in the direction of the window, hardly paying her any attention.  
  
Her voice was barely above a whisper when she finally spoke. "They're really dead?" She turned pleading eyes to him, willing him to deny it, but he couldn't. He nodded, still without looking her way. "Xander and Anya?" After a quick look at her, he gave another small nod, then went back to looking out the window. "All of them?" she whispered. One final nod, and it was official. Everyone she knew was dead. Willow closed her eyes, shutting out the pain along with the light. "Tara?"  
  
"She's fine," he said quickly, startling her. "Whatever it was didn't go after her. But Dawn--"  
  
Willow turned her head away from Spike. They were all dead. Almost everyone she cared about was dead. Except Spike, and Tara. "Does Tara know? Is she safe?"  
  
"She's safe," he reassured her, "she was here a few times while you were out."  
  
Willow heard the hard tone of his voice and looked at him. His jaw was clenched tight. His eyes were cold and filled with bitterness. Everyone he cared about was dead. She still had Tara and Spike. He had no one, except her, and she wasn't sure that even mattered to him. That she even mattered to him. He'd lost everyone he knew and liked here. She sometimes forgot he liked the gang, he managed to hide it so well. Plus Buffy. Especially Buffy. "I'm sorry. About Buffy, I mean. I can't believe she's gone... again"  
  
He looked away from her, and shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal, but she knew better. She'd been there the last time he'd grieved for Buffy.  
  
This Spike, her Spike, was in love with the slayer. He'd almost died for her a few times, and Willow admired him for that. He was so different than the Spike in her dream. The one she'd slept with. The one she had left everybody's future entrusted to.  
It couldn't have all been a dream. But, if it wasn't, shouldn't Spike remember their night together? If it had been real, shouldn't the time line have already changed?  
  
"Spike, um, back when you first got implanted, did I come visit you? In-- in your crypt?" She waited for some form of recognition. A flicker in his eyes. Tightening of his jaw. Anything. There was nothing.  
  
He looked confused. And maybe a little concerned about her sanity. "No. Not that I remember. Why?" He ran his hands through his hair, messing it up slightly.  
  
She resisted the urge to touch it. "No reason." It had been a dream. She rolled onto her other side, away from him. "I'm tired." She listened, waiting for him to leave, but he didn't.  
  
"What did it?" he asked, after a few minutes of silence.  
  
She shrugged and the tubes and wires connected to her arm moved with her.  
  
He sighed in frustration. "I didn't see it, but that bite on your neck looks like a vampire bite."  
She nodded. "It was you," she whispered. "You--"  
  
"What?" he snapped, anger pouring off of him. "You think I did it? Killed them? Killed Buffy?"  
  
She rolled back over, facing him again. Her eyes flashed angrily. "No. You didn't let me finish. It looked like you. It has to be a shapeshifter or something. I ran into it right after I left you." She closed her eyes, trying to remember everything she could, yet remain detached from the pain. "He was you, except his clothes. Blue shirt. Blue jeans. Grey button-up shirt, no duster."  
  
"Why would a shapeshifter go after the slayer? They're generally non-violent. And this one not only went after the slayer, but her friends as well." He frowned. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Positive." She massaged her neck lightly where a large bandage covered the bite mark from the demon. "He did this. Believe me, I got close enough to see. He was you, down to the scar on your eyebrow."  
  
He absently rubbed the scar with his thumb. "Why didn't it kill you? Or me? Or Tara? It obviously knows about us."  
She yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. "I was wondering that too. Maybe it thought I would die. Left me for dead. Or, maybe it just used me to get to Giles."  
  
"Maybe," he agreed.  
  
  
  
Spike's eyes drifted away from the sleeping form of Willow, and back out into the night. He itched to be out there, hunting down the demon that had done this, but he had no idea where to start. He needed more information, and he wouldn't be getting that until tomorrow. Willow was exhausted, she didn't need him waking her up.  
  
All he knew about the shapeshifter was that it had killed almost everyone he cared about. And he did care about them. About Buffy.  
  
A sigh escaped him.  
  
Buffy. She had disliked him to the end. Tolerated him for his ability to help her protect Dawn, but other than that, she despised him. And he despised himself just as strongly for falling for her. If he'd had a choice, he most definitely would not have chosen the slayer to fall in love with.  
  
Losing Buffy--twice--was harder than losing Dru. At least Dru was still out there somewhere, walking around, talking to her bloody stars, shagging this demon and that. But Buffy was in the morgue, and she wasn't going to walk again. Ever.  
  
Willow moaned in her sleep, crying out for Xander. The moron. Spike had often called him that, just to taunt the boy, anger him. It was all he could do anymore, so he had to get his fun where he could.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
"Yeah, pet?" Spike turned from the window, expecting to find Willow watching him, but she was still asleep, thrashing around on the bed, tossing her blankets off. He grabbed her shoulders and held her still until she calmed down, then covered her back up.  
  
"Spike," she said more forcefully, "stop. Get off of me. Get off," she yelled.  
  
He sat back down in the chair. Was she dreaming about him hurting her, or the demon in his form? Was she still afraid of him? He didn't think she was. He shook her lightly.  
  
"Wake up, pet, you're having a nightmare."  
  
She opened her eyes, and, sunken though they were, they were startlingly bright in contrast to her pale skin. Her eyes found his, and her face softened as she reached up to touch his forehead. "I'm not disgusted by you, Spike." Her hand dropped to the bed, and her eyes slid shut again. She was asleep.  
  
He raised his hand to his forehead, the spot she'd touched was where the ridges were when he vamped out. He knew she wasn't disgusted by his demon visage, but why had she felt the need to reassure him of that in her semi-sleep induced mind? 


	6. What Comes part6

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Fox, and Twentieth Century and whoever else has rights to it. I don't, more's the pity, but they do. No money is being made by me on this.  
  
Author's Note: This starts after season 5... and is rather AU. It has spoilers for basically all of season 4 and some of 5. I'm a Spike/Willow 'shipper, and this story is W/S. Also, this is a work in progress. I've been working on it for nearly two years now, and it's still not done, but I'm getting there. It's very long, and involed. Please hang in there, and don't give up on me if I don't update regularly. Reviews would be most welcome.  
  
Another Note: If you read this when I first posted it, you'll need to read it again to understand some of it. I've added a lot to previously posted chapters, and I couldn't begin to tell you which ones have new stuff, and which ones don't. Sorry.  
  
Dedicated: To my beta, Claudia, you rock! You all should thank her for getting more of this story.  
  
  
  
PART 6  
  
(February 2000)  
  
Spike sat on the watcher's couch, his feet in front of him as usual, legs crossed and eyes fixed on Willow. A week had passed since his Willow had left, and he'd found himself visiting Giles' more and more, hoping to see her.  
  
Since he'd previously expressed his dislike, distrust and disgust of the group, his suddenly showing up almost every night was a little suspicious. He didn't care about that.  
  
It was Willow's fear of him that he didn't like. He didn't want her to be afraid of him. Sure, he'd enjoyed it at first. But night after night he came to the ex-watcher's house and night after night she regarded him with fear. It actually seemed to be growing. He couldn't understand it.  
  
He sighed heavily, dropping his feet to the floor. All eyes turned to him, and he glared at each one in turn.  
  
"Spike, could I speak with you in the kitchen for a moment?" Giles asked politely, though his tone and glare were anything but. Spike shrugged and followed the man into the tiny room.  
  
"Yeah?" he asked belligerently.  
  
Giles regarded him steadily, his gaze never wavering. "What is it that you want? We're all tired of waiting around for the other shoe to drop, so just spill it."  
  
Spike shook his head in confusion. "Don't know what you're talking about, Rupert. I'm here to help. Uh, fight the forces of evil, and all that." He sounded pretty unconvincing and he knew it.  
  
Giles crossed his arms over his chest and managed to look pretty menacing. "You hurt anyone here, Spike, I won't wait for Buffy to go after you. I'll kill you myself."  
  
Spike believed him. There was something rather... evil about him just then. This, Spike knew, was Ripper shining through. He nodded his acknowledgment. "Got it." He attempted to move by Giles and go back to watching Willow, but Giles grabbed him by his duster, yanking him back against the counter. Out of sight of the others.  
  
"This is not a game, Spike. Do not doubt that I will kill you."  
  
Spike fought the urge to fight back. Something he had to do more often than he liked. He hated this. He hated them. Willow was the only one he wanted to be around, and even that was unsatisfying. But it was better than nothing. He brushed Giles' hands away and straightened up. "I said, got it," he ground out, shoving past the ex-watcher. He tossed a quick glance at Willow on his way to the door, and found her watching him. He smirked at her, and she quickly looked away.  
  
He slammed the door behind him with a growl, and headed for the cemetery. He needed to kill something. Then he would get a few glasses of blood from Willy's. What he wanted more than anything though, was Willow in his bed. He was obsessed. One taste hadn't been enough. He'd known it then, and he definitely knew it now.  
  
He had another few hours until Jonathon's World took over, so he decided to have a little fun. He veered off to the right, changing directions.  
  
The college campus was full of students walking this way and that, but he paid them no mind. He was looking for one student in particular. A blonde one. He stood outside her window, knowing she'd see him soon enough. Sure enough, not five minutes later, she looked out her window. He could see her fear even as far away as he was. He lit a cigarette and waited. Watched.  
  
Half an hour later, Willow showed up, hurrying across the campus toward her dorm. Spike smelled her before he saw her. She had a distinctive scent. It was all Willow. She didn't use perfumes or scented soap, and it turned him on more than any perfume he'd ever smelled.  
  
Before he realized what he was doing, he stepped in front of her, halting her progress along the sidewalk. She bumped into him, falling on her butt on the ground. Spike chuckled at her.  
  
She glared up at him and got to her feet. "Spike." There was exasperation in her voice, and annoyance. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be lurking... elsewhere?"  
  
His eyes roamed over her from head to toe, drinking her in. She licked her lips nervously, fidgeting under his perusal.  
  
He sighed. "Not doing a thing, Red. Just out for a walk." He tossed a glance behind him, knowing the witch was still watching them, and stepped closer to Willow, taking her elbow. Looked like an intimate little conversation from Tara's point of view. He walked her to her door, leaned close and whispered, "Don't you know it's not safe out here, Red?"  
  
She pulled back, but by now they were out of sight of the blonde witch. "You're starting to get creepy." She spun on her heel and darted inside, taking the stairs two at a time.  
  
Spike watched her until she was out of sight, then headed back to his tree. Tara was still looking out her window. He tossed his cigarette to the ground and left. Willow would be there a while, he knew, and things were about to get interesting.  
  
  
  
(September 2001)  
  
Willow pushed herself into a sitting position with her good arm. The other, in a sling, hung uselessly by her side. Willow felt better than she had in a while. One of the nurses had helped her shower earlier, and Tara had brought her a pair of flannel pajamas from home. Her hair was brushed and clean and things felt almost normal.  
  
Except she was in the hospital and almost all of her friends were dead.  
  
Willow resolutely pushed those thoughts away and focused on the now. On the two people she had left in Sunnydale. Both Spike and Tara were there. Tara was sitting with her on the bed. Spike was standing across the room, almost hidden in shadows. He looked uncomfortable, so she took pity on him.  
  
"You don't have to stay, Spike. I'll be fine. I am fine. Tara's here." She smiled at him, hoping he'd do his usual relieved sigh thing and hurry out, glad to be free. But he didn't, and she wasn't surprised. It had been a week since their friends died, and he'd been there with her every night. Tara came during the day, while he slept and avoided dying in the bright rays.  
  
"Not like I have somewhere better to be." He leaned against the wall, and looked out the window, into the night. "Besides, I want to be here when... they get here. Anything to piss Angel off."  
  
She rolled her eyes at him. "When are they coming? Do you know?"  
  
He shrugged, trying to portray unconcern, but his shoulders were too stiff, his jaw clenched too tightly.  
  
"Um, I think they should be here any minute," Tara said, smiling at Willow. "Cordelia said they were leaving just after sunset."  
  
Willow nodded, looking away from her lover. Angel, Cordelia and Wesley were on their way. She didn't want them here. Somehow, if they came, it would make it all real. She didn't want it to be real.  
  
Tara squeezed Willow's hand, tossed a quick look at Spike, and stood up. "I'm going to get some coffee. You want some?" They both shook their heads and she left the room quietly, giving them time alone to talk.  
  
Willow watched Spike for a few minutes. His eyes were focused outside, but she knew that his attention was focused inward. His thoughts miles away. He sighed and turned his head, meeting her gaze. "Angel," he answered, before she could ask. He chuckled ruefully. "He's not gonna be happy to see me, so I should probably go."  
  
"But you just said--"  
  
"Changed my mind." He pushed away from the wall.  
  
"Stay. Please. I-- I don't want them here," she confessed, feeling awful for saying it.  
  
He dropped into the chair next to the bed. "Thought they were your friends and all that?"  
  
She straightened her sling. Pulled the blanket a little higher. Smoothed it out. When she started to straighten her sling again, she felt his hand on hers and went still. "Sorry. I'm fidgety when I'm nervous." She stared down at his large, pale hand covering hers. Her hand turned, twining with his as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "They are my friends. At least, Angel is, or was. I haven't seen him in over a year, even before... " she'd almost said, 'even before the time period I went back to' And then she could've thrown in, 'before you and I slept together' just to make it complete. Great way to make him think she was delusional, unable to differentiate between dreams and reality.  
  
"Before, um, Christmas," she added lamely. "And Cordelia and I? We talked a couple of times on the phone... I told her about Harmony." She laughed in remembrance. "Cordelia and Harmony were best friends in high school. Harmony went to visit her a few months ago, and," she giggled, "Cordelia thought she was coming on to her, because she told her she couldn't resist wanting her and there was this whole big thing, and... anyway, we never really were friends in a friendly sort of way. She sort of hated me." Willow grinned impudently. "I stole her boyfriend."  
  
Spike laughed, looking more relaxed than she'd seen him all week. He rolled his eyes at her. "The moron doesn't count," he said, and then fell quiet when he realized what he'd said.  
  
She fell quiet as well, forcing back tears. She had cried herself dry, or so she'd thought. "So Cordelia isn't exactly going to be nice, I'm sure. Be warned. And Wesley? Well, we never really even-- actually, I don't know him at all. He was Faith's Watcher, and I kind of hated Faith with a fiery passion. Coulda roasted marshmallows on it."  
  
He grinned at her, and she had a sudden memory of the two of them in bed, talking about who they would and wouldn't want to sleep with. She shook herself mentally. They were dreams, not memories. She had to remember that, otherwise she'd never get through this.  
  
"I'm just afraid... if they come here, it sort of makes it more real. They'll stay dead if Angel comes here. Sounds stupid, I know, but I can't help it."  
  
He shook his head. "Doesn't sound stupid. Sounds human." His eyes fell to their clasped hands. He was examining them as if he'd never seen hands before. She squeezed his lightly. Tara came into the room a few seconds later, and Willow dropped his hand guiltily. Tara set her cup of coffee on the table beside the bed, and sat beside her girlfriend.  
  
Willow glanced at Spike under her brows. He was watching the two of them oddly. He didn't notice her watching him, otherwise she was sure she never would've seen the envy and loneliness in his eyes.  
  
"I think your friends are here," Tara said. "Is Angel real tall, dark hair, long black coat? 'Cause there's a guy out there like that with a woman with short dark hair with blonde streaks. And a smaller man with glasses, kinda nervous looking."  
  
Spike snorted at her description. "That's them. Except the cheerleader. Last I saw, she had long hair. Real long."  
  
"She cut it," a voice said from the doorway.  
  
Both Tara and Spike jumped up, and backed away from Willow, giving the newcomers space to greet Willow.  
  
Cordelia hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "Took them almost two weeks to notice it, and here you guys haven't even seen it and you notice it already." She stepped into the room, followed by Angel and Wesley.  
  
"Willow. Are you okay?" Angel asked, concern etched into his face.  
  
"Miss Rosenberg. Sorry about your loss." That was Wesley.  
  
Cordelia hugged her awkwardly, and Willow caught Spike's rueful grin over Cordelia's shoulder. "I can't believe they're gone," Cordy whispered.  
  
Willow nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Angel ignored Spike completely. He sat down in the chair Spike had vacated. "Are you all right?" he asked again.  
  
"I'm fine. Tara and Spike are--"  
  
"Oh, Tara, nice to meet you," Angel said, nodding toward the nervous blonde. Willow frowned. She looked from Angel's concerned face to Spike's blank one.  
  
Cordy, standing next to Tara, shook her hand with a smile. Wesley did so as well, and her poor girlfriend was looking quite overwhelmed.  
  
Willow turned back to Spike, but he was gone. The door swung silently shut behind him. She glared at Angel. Was a, 'hello, Spike' too much to ask for? Apparently so. Someone was tapping her shoulder, snapping her out of her thoughts. It was Tara, she had her jacket and coffee, ready to leave.  
  
"Are you leaving?" Willow asked, feeling like everyone was abandoning her.  
  
"Uh-huh. I think you guys need time alone. I'll be back tomorrow morning." She leaned over and kissed Willow softly. "G'night."  
  
"Night," Willow whispered. Tara left the room and Willow turned her attention back to the trio from L.A., who all seemed to be trying to look anywhere but at her. She wondered if it was the gay thing, the long time apart thing, or the, 'all our friends are dead' thing. Willow fought an hysterical giggle, but she couldn't fight the tears.  
  
  
  
(February 2000)  
  
Spike was walking through the cemetery on his way home from Willy's when he heard voices behind him. It was Jonathan and his groupies. Willow was with them, but she and the others were hanging slightly back from Jonathan and Buffy. Spike had no real wish for a run-in with any of them, except Willow, but not now, with her surrounded by her friends. He slipped behind a bush and waited for them to pass him by.  
  
Jonathan was lecturing Buffy on the habits of vampires, which, if she was the slayer, she should have known.  
"Vampires only form nests to make hunting easier. They're not big on the cooperation. They mostly like to hang out all creepy and alone in the shadows. Don't you agree... Spike?"  
  
Spike cursed silently and stepped out from behind the bush. "Well, well, the man himself."  
  
"What are you doing here?" Jonathan asked, as he and Spike circled each other threateningly.  
  
"I live here. I wasn't exactly pining for a noisy visit from Wonder Jonathan and His Fluffy Battle Kittens." This guy really bugged Spike for some reason. There was just something off about a guy who was so damn good at everything. Had to be a demon or something. Maybe a spell. No way was anyone this talented and lucky.  
  
"Yeah?" Buffy joined in. "You think that one up with all the time you spend not being able to bite people?"  
  
"Careful, he's still pretty dangerous," Jonathan warned her.  
  
Spike's pride and self worth shot up about thirty points. "Yeah, back off Betty."  
  
Buffy took offense at that and tried her hand at being witty. "It's Buffy, you big, bleached... stupid guy." She failed miserably.  
  
And there was Jonathan, acting the big manly stud. "Spike you're the worst type of scum. The second you're back to your old tricks, well, let's just say, before you even sniff out your first victim, you'll be pretty indistinguishable from, oh, what should we say? Instant soup mix."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes and with one last look at Willow, walked away. That bloody Jonathan guy was more annoying than the slayer ever had been. All knowing, all seeing. He thought he was hot stuff. And the fact that he was, rankled Spike more than anything.  
  
Inside his crypt, Spike tossed his duster over the broken chair, got out the pile of papers Willow had left him, and sat down to read. First thing he saw was: Jonathan's World. He snorted and read on.  
  
A few minutes later, he laughed aloud. He'd known it. It was a spell. And a demon was out there with all the geek boy's powers. This could be fun. Now that he knew, it was rather obvious. Nobody was that good at everything, and this Jonathan guy was just a geek with delusions of grandeur. Waiting to be taken down a peg or two.  
  
Spike hid the papers back in the stone behind the wall, and lit a cigarette. Willow's notes were highly detailed, telling him pretty much where she was at all times when things went wrong, and the rest of the gang as well. He didn't care about the others. Just her.  
  
She was at the witch's dorm by now. His jaw tightened. She spent all her spare time there, even stayed the night sometimes. She was growing closer and closer to the witch every day, and he hated it. Jealousy and envy were two emotions he'd never wanted to know intimately again. And yet, here he was dancing with them as if they were old friends.  
  
He had two options. Leave Willow and Tara alone and let their relationship develop, or destroy it. At first he'd decided to leave them alone. He was confident enough to believe that she'd come to him once he got to her time period. But as time went by, it was becoming more and more difficult to do so. He wanted her. She was his. That blonde witch didn't deserve her. She was going to betray them. Almost get them all killed.  
  
Bloody hell, why was he even considering leaving Willow to Tara? Since when had he become a selfless martyr? He wanted something, he usually went after it. So what was different now?  
  
Not a bloody thing.  
  
Besides, how could he avoid falling in love with the slayer if he didn't have someone else to focus on?  
  
With that decided, Spike sat back and waited, an idea forming in his mind. He knew everything that was going to happen, thanks to Willow. He could play the hero. Get on everyone's good side. Get Willow on his side. Away from Tara. He grinned in anticipation. 


	7. What Comes part7

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, or 6.  
  
PART 7  
  
(September 2001)  
  
Willow was released from the hospital the day after Angel and his gang arrived. She was relieved, and way beyond ready to go home by the time she signed the last paper and was wheeled out into the sun. Tara drove her to her parent's house, and Willow sat happily ensconced on the couch while her parents fussed over her. She cherished times like these, when Ira and Sheila actually paid attention to their daughter, because she knew they wouldn't last long. Too soon they would feel the pull of business meetings and out of town trips again, and be on the next plane out.  
  
Willow didn't mind too much anymore. She was used to it. She knew her parents loved her. And she loved them. They just led separate lives.  
  
Later that night, after Tara had gone home, and her parents had gone to bed, Willow lay in her bed, wide awake. She was thinking about Xander and Buffy, remembering all the good times they'd had... mostly having to do with vampires and demons in Buffy's case, but Willow wouldn't have given those times up for the world.  
  
And Xander. She'd known him all her life. Been best friends since forever. Loved him longer than not. And now he was gone, and she had an aching hole in her where he used to be. She wouldn't get to see his handsome face ever again except in pictures, never hear his voice as he told one of his terrible jokes. Never see that smile he had just for her.  
  
She felt tears soaking her cheeks again, and wiped angrily at them. She was sick and tired of the tears and the sobbing, she didn't want to do it anymore. She wanted the pain to go away. Her eyes darted over to one of her spell books and she threw the blanket back, climbing out of bed.  
  
When she went to bed, the night was warm, so she'd only dressed in a tank top and baggy shorts, but it was a bit chillier now, so she threw her robe on, and tied it.  
  
Her desk lamp hummed quietly when she turned it on. The sound was comforting, familiar. She sat cross legged in the middle of her bed and flipped through the spell book, looking for a healing spell.  
  
A sound from her glass door drew her attention a few minutes later. She tossed the book aside, grabbed the cross from under her pillow and peered into the darkness. The light from her desk lamp prevented her from seeing anything, so she got up and moved cautiously toward the door, holding the cross out in front of her. She turned off the light as she passed it and stood still, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness.  
  
She heard a familiar dry chuckle from the other side of the door, but she didn't lower the cross. She moved closer, still holding it out in front of her.  
  
"Willow," Spike said quietly. "You want to get that thing out of my face?"  
  
"No," she immediately answered. How was she to know if this was the real Spike or not? Fake Spike could have wised up and changed his clothes. She peered closely into his eyes, but she couldn't tell. He looked like her Spike, but so had Fake Spike. She bit her lip in frustration, unsure what to do.  
  
"It's me, Willow." He certainly sounded as exasperated as Spike could get.  
  
But still... did that mean anything? The shapeshifter didn't need an invitation, it'd proved that the night it killed Giles, so why was she bothering with the cross? "All right. Okay, um, I really hope you're you." She lowered the cross, standing aside to let him in.  
  
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the railing, shrugging. A small smile played over his lips. "I'm fine out here." He gazed up at the moon, and inhaled deeply before returning his eyes to hers. "What kind of spell are you doing?"  
  
She sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall, pulling her legs up to her chest. "How'd you know I was--"  
  
He nodded to the book on her bed. "Pretty obvious."  
  
"Oh. Yeah, I guess. Um, just a small spell. Nothing huge. Nothing life altering. Just a little thing really."  
  
His voice was teasing when he spoke. "None of your spells are ever small, pet." He straightened up, his voice turning serious. "I just came to see if you were all right. Not passed out on the floor again or something."  
  
She laughed quietly. "I'm fine. I've actually had no urges to faint. At least not since my mom told me she was bringing me dinner in bed. She's a huge believer in self sufficiency and doesn't tend to coddle, hence my incredulity."  
  
They were both quiet for a few minutes, lost in their own thoughts and memories. Willow was watching him surreptitiously. Since waking in the hospital, she'd found herself watching him a lot. Her trip to the past may have been just a dream, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it was real. She'd seen Spike naked, she knew every inch of his body. In the dream, or whatever it was, she'd watched him while he slept. She'd studied him, memorizing every detail.  
  
But it couldn't have been real. The past was just as she remembered it. Nothing had changed. Her friends were still dead. Spike didn't remember their night together. It had to have been a dream.  
  
A sudden thought struck her. She'd seen him naked. She knew what he looked like naked. If it was just a dream, then he wouldn't have a small scar on his right thigh. Or a long jagged one on his abdomen.  
  
She stood up quickly, and opened the door. "Come in."  
  
He hesitated a second before stepping inside. It was the first time he'd been in her bedroom. She should've felt awkward and nervous, but excitement was winning out. In a minute, if he co-operated, she'd prove once and for all if her trip to the past was real, or just a dream.  
  
Now, how to go about asking him without telling him anything? As tempting as it was, she wouldn't ask him to strip. She hid a grin at the thought and sat down on her bed.  
  
Spike looked around her room, examining the girly things with amusement. She hardly noticed him picking up her things and smirking over them before putting them back. She was too busy trying to figure out the best way to go about this. Finally, she decided to just ask him straight out.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
He turned from his perusal of a stuffed bear and faced her. "Yeah?"  
  
"Um, I need to ask you something, and it may seem strange, but really, it's not. I'm sane, I just had this... thing, happen, o-- or not happen, which is why I need to ask you this question. You know, to figure out if it really happened or not."  
  
He nodded his consent, turning back to her stuffed animals. She was glad he was used to her rambling by now. He picked up another stuffed animal, this one a wolf that Oz had given her.  
  
"Okay." She took a deep breath and dove in. "Do you have a small scar on your right thigh?" She winced, waiting for his reaction. She didn't know why, but she expected laughter and mocking. What she got was anger.  
  
"How did you know about that?" he ground out. His suddenly cold eyes fell on her spell book and he ripped the head off of her poor stuffed wolf. "What the hell are you trying to do to me this time?" He dropped the wolf and stomped over to the book.  
  
She jumped out of his way just in time. "No, the spell was for me. This is something completely different, not having to do with a spell. I, um... " she quickly weighed her options and went with a safe answer. "I dreamed it."  
  
His snort told her how much he believed her. He continued to flip through the book, searching for a spell she could use against him. "Sure you did, Willow."  
  
"Really," she assured him. "I did. I... sort of did."  
  
He raised a scornful eyebrow at her. "Lying is not your strong suit."  
  
She threw her arms up in defeat. "All right, fine. I didn't dream it. You want the truth?"  
  
He nodded curtly.  
  
"Great. After I passed out, on the way to the hospital, I went back in time."  
  
He stared at her for a full minute before shaking his head disdainfully. "Try again. That's worse than the dream one."  
  
She cast a look at her bedroom door, half expecting her parents to come barreling through the door with stern glances and shaking fingers.  
  
She was getting angry now at his cavalier attitude. She glared at him and poked her finger into his chest. "Don't believe me, buster?"  
  
He shook his head again.  
  
"You also have a long scar... " she traced her finger along his abdomen, "right here."  
  
His eyes bore into hers once again as he yanked her hand away from his stomach. "Okay, so you know I have a few scars. How does that prove you went back in time?"  
  
She wondered at his anger. Why would her knowing about his scars make him so angry?  
  
"That in itself doesn't prove anything to you. But it does to me. See, since I woke up in the hospital I've tried to convince myself it was a dream, but it was too real."  
  
He snapped his fingers in realization. "You visited me in my crypt. Right after I was chipped."  
  
Hope surged through her and she took a step closer to him. "You remember now?"  
  
"What?" he asked, his confusion evident. "No. You asked me that when you woke up."  
  
Disappointment flooded through her, but she managed to keep most of it hidden. "Oh. I don't get it then. How could you not remember? I was there. It was when Faith switched bodies with Buffy. I saw you two talking in the Bronze." His eyes narrowed dangerously, and she stepped back with a gulp. "I told you it was Faith, that it wasn't really Buffy... you, of course, don't remember me telling you." She sighed heavily. "Everything is so screwed up."  
  
"You went back in time... what? A year?"  
  
"A year and a half," she corrected, "but yeah."  
  
"What'd you do while you were back there?" His hand rubbed absently at his abdomen. "Or maybe I should ask what we did," he smirked. "Seeing as how you know all my most intimate secrets. Once again I feel all violated by you, Willow."  
  
His rich laughter rang throughout the room, warming her. A blush crept up her cheeks.  
  
Admitting to having sex with him without him remembering it would make it sort of awkward, so she lied. "We didn't do anything. Nothing. You, um, you just... oh, you told me about them."  
  
"You're still a terrible liar." All teasing was gone now, his voice was serious, almost wary. "What did I do?"  
  
"Do?" she asked, confusion lacing her words. "What do you mean? You didn't *do* anything."  
  
"No? I remember what I was like then. I hated all of you. Blamed all of you for the implant. And when you did that spell, you were at the top of my hit list. If I hadn't had the chip, you'd definitely be dead now."  
  
She was shaking her head in denial. "No, that's not true. I was there, you didn't-- well, not that you could. But... you wanted to kill me that bad?" Her lower lip trembled. "Then why did you... "  
  
He was watching her closely, trying to figure out what she wasn't saying. Well, she wasn't going to tell him. God, she'd slept with someone who wanted to kill her. Could've killed her. Her hand rose to her neck, rubbing his bite mark, the one that wasn't there. Why hadn't he killed her? He could have just drained her dry, drained her as she lay naked and trusting in his arms.  
  
"Did we... did I--"  
  
"No," she told him, and this time her lie came out sounding like the truth. "No, we didn't. You were drunk, and I helped you to bed. Saw the scars then." He would never know the truth. Not from her lips.  
  
He looked relieved. "Good. You know, if it means anything," he teased, "I don't want to kill you anymore."  
  
Her smile was strained. "Great. You know, I'm tired. So... "  
  
He nodded, watching her closely. "Are you sure I didn't do anything to you?" he probed.  
  
"I'm sure. I'll tell you what happened tomorrow, I'm just really sleepy right now." She turned away from him.  
  
"Right. Tomorrow." His tone was flat. He knew she was holding something back, and he didn't like it. He slipped outside, and jumped over the railing, landing with a soft thud on the grass. Willow stood on the balcony, watching him until he disappeared before going back inside and locking the doors behind her.  
  
She picked the spell book back up and quickly flipped through it. She needed that spell more than ever now, otherwise she'd collapse into tears again.  
  
She'd slept with a man-- vampire, that hated her, that wanted to kill her. She shoved those thoughts aside and concentrated on finding the spell.  
  
About to give up and write her own spell, she gave a surprised cheer when she found a suitable one in the back of the book. An Emotion Control spell. Perfect.  
  
She got all the ingredients from her hidden stash in the closet, set the candles and lit them, cast her circle and did the spell.  
  
  
  
(September 2001)  
  
Spike spent a good two hours hunting the shape shifting demon, but it seemed no one knew it was there. Or, if they did, they weren't talking to Spike about it. Most demons were celebrating the death of the slayer, and didn't have time to talk to a traitor. It didn't matter. However long it took, Spike would find the demon, and kill it.  
  
He climbed the trellis to Willow's balcony later that night to find her asleep in bed. He quickly picked the lock on her door and slipped inside. After her admission earlier, he'd started to worry about her. It was obvious something had happened between the two of them, but she wasn't being forthcoming about it. Remembering her nightmare in the hospital, he was afraid his past self had done something to hurt her in some way, but he didn't know what. And if he was honest with himself, he was afraid to find out.  
  
He quietly shut the door behind him, and looked around. The spell book was on her desk, and everything was in it's place, even the stuffed wolf he'd ripped apart, but he knew she had cast a spell. The smell of herbs and candle wax hung heavy in the air.  
  
Great. What was going to go wrong this time? Something always did when it came to Willow and magick. Especially when emotions were involved. And she'd been upset when he left.  
  
He looked down at her sleeping form. She was curled up on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek, the other hanging over the side of the bed, open and inviting. He knelt down beside the bed and laced his fingers with hers. His cold fingers were immediately warmed. Their intertwined fingers held a certain fascination for him that he couldn't explain. Last night, in the hospital, when she'd wrapped her hand around his, he'd found himself staring at her tiny hand nestled against his larger one, wondering if her small body would fit against his as well as her hand did.  
  
He slipped her hand back under the sheet. She sighed softly, her warm breath fanning across his cheek. He brushed his fingers across her forehead, smoothing away the frown there.  
  
He missed contact with other people. He'd always hated being alone, but these days, it was worse than it had ever been. And lately, he'd found himself wanting to touch Willow, hold her, kiss her. Just to have contact with someone else.  
  
That was all it was, wasn't it?  
  
He still loved Buffy. Didn't he? Yes, he did. But she was gone, and Willow was here. She was all he had left and she was alone, hurt. Beautiful. She needed him.  
  
She has Tara, he reminded himself.  
  
Tara isn't what Willow needs, his irrational side tossed back, she needs me.  
  
Inhaling her scent, he leaned down and pressed his lips lightly against hers. She moaned in her sleep and whispered Tara's name.  
  
Anger swept through him, and he jumped to his feet. Where the hell did she get off dreaming about the witch? She should be thinking about him.  
  
Since when? he wondered. And why was he thinking about her like that so suddenly?  
  
His eyes fell on the spell book. Maybe since she'd cast a spell? He reached out to shake her awake, force her to tell him what she'd done, but halted his hand just above her shoulder. Tomorrow. He would ask her tomorrow, she needed to sleep tonight.  
  
  
  
(February 2000)  
  
Jonathan's world was a world that Spike didn't want to live in. Everywhere he turned, he saw the boy's face, smirking, confident... annoying. He'd bided his time, waited a whole day before taking action, and now it was time. Time to play the hero and save the damsel in distress.  
  
He stood around the corner from where it would happen, watching and waiting. Couldn't rescue her too soon, he'd let her get tossed around a bit first.  
  
Ten minutes later, the girl finally decided to show up for her beating. He rolled his eyes, just like a woman to be late. She walked past without seeing him. She wouldn't have recognized him anyway, he'd never let her see him in the light when he stood outside her window.  
  
Her heartbeat picked up and he peered around the corner, she turned her head just as he did, and he ducked back, feeling like a fool, hiding from a little girl.  
  
He had to remind himself that he was doing this for Willow.  
  
There was a loud crashing sound down the hall. He stepped out to watch. The double doors in front of her had crashed open and the demon was there. It backhanded her, and she fell. Then, it swiped at her again, and she was on her back, holding her hands up defensively.  
  
Spike started to go to her rescue, being all manly and hero-y, but stopped as she started chanting desperately, scooting backwards. He decided to wait and see what happened.  
  
She held her arms out and some kind of smoke or powder sprung from her hands blinding the monster. The demon chittered, waving the smoke away. Tara got up and ran through a door, locking it. The demon banged on the door a few times.  
  
Spike decided that now was the time. He snuck up behind the creature and hit it in the lower back. It shrieked in surprise, spinning around to face him. Spike punched it in the face and it went down.  
  
Breaking the lock, Spike yanked the door open. The witch was cowering inside, obviously in shock. She had little scratches and cuts all over her, and he snickered at the frailty of humans. He reached out, grabbed the girl, and hauled her into his arms. She didn't protest, didn't even seem to notice. He carried her to Willow's dorm room. Willow would be there soon, all grateful and appreciative, and he'd be waiting.  
  
The invitation Willow had called out to him when he tried to kill her a few months ago was still there. Good thing, otherwise his plan would have failed. He went inside, wondering why neither one of them had locked the door.  
  
He laid the girl on the slayer's bed. She curled up, shivering and whimpering. He reached down and yanked the blankets out from underneath her and carelessly covered her up, then stood back, examining his work. Not bad. The witch was suitably pathetic looking, and he was ready to receive his adulation.  
  
He sat down on Willow's bed and kicked off his boots. It'd be a few minutes before Willow got home. He stretched out on her bed and folded his hands behind his head, a contented smile turning up his lips.  
  
  
  
(February 2000)  
  
Spike was pulled roughly from slumber by a hand on his throat. He opened his eyes to see the slayer's angry face above his.  
  
"What did you do to her?" she demanded, a deadly glint in her eyes.  
  
"What are you on about?" He shook her hand off of his throat and sat up. Willow was there. He could smell her, hear her heartbeat. He looked expectantly over at her. Any minute now, Willow would be all grateful and appreciative. She wasn't looking at him. Her hand was busy smoothing Tara's hair away from her forehead, while her other hand held Tara's unresponsive one.  
  
Buffy grabbed his jaw and turned his face back to hers, showing him the stake in her hand. "I asked you a question. What did you do to Tara?"  
  
Spike batted the stake away from his face and stood up, a cocky grin touching his lips. "Saved her," he said proudly. His gaze fell on Willow. She tossed him a quick glance before turning her attention back to the blonde.  
  
Damn it. Where was his appreciation?  
  
"Yeah. Right," Buffy snorted. "And you expect us to believe this, why?"  
  
"It's the truth. Saw a demon headed this way, thought I'd take it out, you know? Make the world safer and all that rot. Found it in the hall, beating on Red's witchy friend here."  
  
Buffy still looked unconvinced. "Uh-huh."  
  
He shot her an irritated glance and was about to reply when Willow interrupted him.  
  
"I believe him. I mean, if he did this, why would he wait here with her? Why would she still be alive? Why would he bring her here, I mean, he's not Angelus." Both her and Buffy gasped at Willow's harsh words. Willow rushed over to Buffy. Pushing Spike out of the way, she grabbed Buffy's hand. "I am *so* sorry, Buffy. I didn't mean that the way it came out. You know me, never thinking before speaking."  
  
Spike snorted. "Don't apologize. It's the truth. Angelus is a sadistic bastard."  
  
"Shut up," both girls said as one.  
  
Feeling extremely offended, Spike threw his hands in the air. "Fine."  
  
Buffy glared at him, then smiled at Willow. "It's fine. I'm not mad. You just kinda took me by surprise. You really believe him?" she asked dubiously.  
  
"Hey. Standing right here," he mumbled.  
  
Willow ignored him. She nodded at Buffy, a goofy smile on her face. "First time for everything."  
  
Spike's eyes shot to hers at her words. He'd told his Willow that exact same thing when she told him that she and future Spike had never slept together.  
  
Neither of the girls noticed his suddenly intense gaze settle on Willow, and for that he was grateful. It wouldn't do to scare the girl, or alert the slayer.  
  
Tara moaned pitifully from the bed, and Spike rolled his eyes as Willow and Buffy rushed over to her. He was still waiting for a thank you, or something.  
  
Willow sat on the bed, holding the witch's hand. Buffy knelt beside them. Tara's eyes opened, looking from Willow to Buffy. As remembrance flooded through her, she looked around the room, looking for the creature. Her eyes lit on Spike and widened. He sneered at her, and she whimpered. Willow looked accusingly at Spike, but he'd already covered the sneer with a bored look. He shrugged at her, all innocence and charm.  
  
"Tara, what did this?" Buffy asked gently, having missed the exchange.  
  
"Big, lumpy," Tara told her. "Had something on its-- on its head. Like a Greek letter, only not."  
  
Buffy grabbed a sheet of paper from her nightstand, and drew on it. "This? Was it this?"  
  
Tara nodded.  
  
Willow turned to the slayer. "Buffy, Jonathan said we were all safe. Jonathan said it," she stressed.  
  
"Yeah. Jonathan," Spike scoffed. "Wanker's nothing but a fraud."  
  
Buffy looked at him sharply. "What do you know?" she asked.  
  
"Me? Nothing." He knew plenty, but he wasn't about to help the slayer. He would help Willow, but not the slayer. Not while there was a chance that it might lead to... any sort of liking of her.  
  
Buffy didn't look convinced, but she didn't ask anymore questions.  
  
"So," Spike said expectantly.  
  
"So?" Buffy asked. "So, what?"  
  
He frowned thunderously. "Nothing." His mood had been plummeting south since being woken up, and was somewhere around the south pole by now. He clenched his jaw shut, not wanting to push the slayer over the edge. Not without him able to defend himself. "Thanks, Spike," he said in a loud voice. Then in his normal voice. "Gosh, think nothing of it, Red, I was happy to do it."  
  
The three girls stared at him as if he'd gone mad, and Spike suddenly felt like he had. Here he was, standing inside a girls' dorm room, not killing anyone, and fishing for a thank you. He really hated his life. He stomped to the door and left, slamming it shut behind him. 


	8. What Comes part8

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, or 6.  
  
PART 8  
  
(September 2001)  
  
Willow took a deep breath and knocked on the door of Spike's crypt. She hadn't been here since she'd slept with him... which, technically was a year and a half ago, but to her was only two weeks ago. She'd been practicing her story all day long, and had it all memorized. As soon as the door swung open however, and she was faced with Spike's naked chest, she forgot her explanation.  
  
He scowled down at her, and waved her in. "'Bout time."  
  
Willow kept her eyes on the floor as she pushed past him. Naked Spike chest was bad. Very bad. Avoid looking at him. Avoid looking at him.   
  
She sat down in his armchair before remembering that it was broken, but was pleasantly surprised when it didn't fall.  
  
"Last time I was here, this chair was busted. And so was the TV, and the table was--"  
  
"Never happened." He grabbed his T-Shirt off his bed and pulled it on.  
  
She felt safe looking at him again, and did so, in length. Tight jeans, tight T-Shirt, narrowed eyes.  
  
"But, it did. How else would I know about your scars? And, how would I know what the skanky ho said to you?" Willow's hand flew to her mouth when she realized what she'd just said. "Oh, um, oops. I meant Faith. Um, she and I never really got along, which I already mentioned."  
  
He looked amused at her slip-up. A small smile curled his lips, and he'd lost the angry look. "So how did the chair get broken?"  
  
"Um, okay, here's the thing." She stood up and paced a bit, ready to tell her story. She'd be fine as long as she didn't look at him. "I passed out as you were carrying me to the hospital. I woke up, sitting on Giles' couch, holding a book, and being scared to death by you. You snuck up behind me and whispered, 'boo' in my ear. Normally, I'd laugh and have a jolly time at my expense, but after having just seen Giles dead, I--"  
  
"Freaked," he guessed.  
  
"Freaked," she confirmed. "Basically? I accused you of killing him. My thoughts were a little scrambled. You were--"  
  
"Pissed off," he hazarded.  
  
"I was gonna go with, 'not so happy', but pissed off works too. And stop finishing my sentences please, it's--"  
  
"Annoying," he said with a grin.  
  
"Very," she agreed, glaring at him. "So then, after I realized what was happening, or what I thought was happening, I explained it to you. Apologized and stuff. Once I figured out that I was back in time, I jumped to a huge conclusion, but it felt right. That I was there to fix things. But, you, being of the skeptical nature, didn't believe me, so I had to give you proof."  
  
"Proof?" he asked. "What kind of proof?"  
  
"Just some stuff I know about you now that I couldn't, or shouldn't have known about then."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
She sighed, trying to remember exactly what she'd told him. "Such as Dru being your sire instead of Angelus." Oh, and that other thing too. A blush crept up her cheeks, and she looked everywhere but at him. "And how you got that scar on your eyebrow and what happened afterwards," she finished in a rush.  
  
A confused expression passed over his face. "Afterwards? Nothing happened afterwards. I killed the Slayer, and-- Oh. *That* afterwards." He grinned at her, causing her blush to deepen. "And just how did you know about that, love?"  
  
"Buffy told me." She frowned at him. "She wasn't at all happy about that, you know. I think you shared a little too much with her that night. Which brings me around to why the chair was broken."  
  
"Well? Spill it." He hopped up on his bed and lit a cigarette.  
  
"I was being interfere-y. I tried to warn you about something, and you weren't taking me seriously, and I had to tell you something that you didn't like. You got angry. So, weather's been pretty nice lately, huh?"  
  
Laughter rang throughout the crypt and she shivered. God, his voice was sexy. She was responding to it--to him--more than she liked. Remembering that he could hear her heartbeat, she forced herself to think about something other than Spike. Naked Spike. Bad. Uh, demons. Ugly, mean, scaly demons. Frogs. Spiders. Okay, that did it. All better now.  
  
"You can tell me, you know. I won't get mad. Not like... uh, *I* did. Past me." He was watching her closely through narrowed eyes as a swirl of smoke floated lazily around him.  
  
She had already decided to tell him the truth if he asked about this part. It was just their sleeping together that she refused to tell him. "I told you to stick to the facts when you told Buffy how you killed those two slayers."  
  
Spike sighed, but didn't look away. "She told you about that too? The alley?"  
  
Willow nodded unhappily.  
  
"No harm done." He hopped off the coffin suddenly. "Let's take a walk," he said.  
  
"Um... okay," she agreed. Confusion shot through her, but she decided that now was not the time to analyze his feelings. She stood and went with him out into the bright moonlit cemetery. They walked quietly among the headstones for a few minutes, with Willow weaving herself in and out of a row of markers, waiting for him to talk. When he didn't, she stopped and faced him.  
  
"So you're not mad?" she asked curiously.  
  
"Mad? No. Just wondering if you ever cast that spell last night."  
  
"Um, yeah. I did. It wasn't anything to do with you, you know. I wouldn't purposely do a spell on someone else without their permission." She'd certainly learned her lesson with the de-lusting spell she'd been attempting to do on her and Xander when Spike decided to show up and ruin things. She thought it was karmic justice on her for almost having interfered with the natural order of things.  
  
"What about--"  
  
"Purposely," she stressed. "Anyway, the spell I did last night was just to get my emotions under control. No more bawling like a baby."  
  
He tossed her a look. "So... what, no more pain? Is that it? They're dead, and you get to not feel?"  
  
"Pretty much, yeah." She nodded. "I can't stand to--"  
  
"Hey," a voice said from behind them. "Gonna share?"  
  
Willow spun around, automatically reaching for the stake she kept in her bag... which was still in the crypt. She inched closer to Spike, knowing he always carried a stake in his duster... which he didn't have on. Uh-oh.  
  
Spike pushed Willow firmly behind him and stepped forward. "No, I'm not," he told the vampire. The vamp just stood there, licking his lips, staring at Willow. She backed up a few steps, wanting to be as far away from the greasy vamp as possible.  
  
"Come on, man. Just a taste." Greasy jumped forward, trying to grab her, but Spike's fist in his face stopped him. Greasy's head snapped back, and he grabbed his bleeding nose. "Dude, you broke my nose," he yelled.  
  
Spike's voice was steely. "I don't share." He seized the vamp's head and twisted, breaking his neck, and dropping him to the ground in a heap.  
  
Willow heard the sickening crunch of the vampire's spine as it broke, and fought back the bile threatening to rise in her throat. She searched around for a broken branch or something made of wood. A vase of dried out Forsythia flowers decorated a gravestone a few feet away and she snatched one. She dropped to her knees beside the vamp and staked him, putting him out of his soon to be misery. The vamp and the Forsythia turned to dust under her hands, but she remained there a few seconds. She couldn't look at Spike right now, she was sickened by what he'd just done. After what had happened to him, after being forced to sit in a wheelchair for months, how on earth could he do the same thing to someone else?  
  
She felt his hands on her arms and she jerked away from him, climbing to her feet. He dropped his hands to his sides, and nodded curtly. "Right."  
  
He was angry? What did he have to be angry about? Should she be thanking him? Well, sure he'd saved her life, but he'd also enjoyed it. And intended to leave the vampire there with it's neck broken. Unable to move, the guy would've greeted the day and burst into flames after a night filled with pain, and helplessness.  
  
"Wow," she said sarcastically, "you in the past weren't kidding when you said you enjoyed violence."  
  
"Wasn't going to leave him like that, Willow. I had to disable him while I went back to get a stake. Or would you rather I let him have you while I went back?"  
  
She studied him to see if he was telling the truth or not. He seemed sincere, but he was a demon, which she kept forgetting. Remember, she told herself, he'd just as soon kill you as sleep with you. At least the past him would, this one didn't want to do either.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
He shrugged, and grabbed her arm, heading back toward his crypt. "Don't be. I'm a demon, what else should you have thought?"  
  
"That you're a nice--" she caught his sideways look, and amended her choice of words, "uh, still evil demon who chooses to use his powers for good?"  
  
He snorted in amusement. "Is that what I'm doing?"  
  
"Yup." She pulled her arm from his hand, stood with her hands on her hips, superhero style, and boomed out in a deep voice. "When evil's afoot, it's... Vanilla Chip to the rescue."  
  
He laughed at her display and ruffled her hair. "And you're my trusty sidekick... Witchy Woman?"  
  
She curled her lip at the name in mock disgust. "I want a name with oomph. Pizzazz. Something like... "  
  
"How about Red Robin?" He lifted a lock of her hair.  
  
"Eh."  
  
He rolled his eyes and messed up her hair, before darting out of the way of her slapping hand.  
  
They were in front of his crypt now, and she followed him inside. "You know," she told him, "it's only fair that I get to retaliate in kind."  
  
He patted his hair like a preening school girl. "Don't think so, Red."  
  
"Oh, come on," she pleaded, "it looks tons sexier when it's all messed up and--" Her eyes flew to his, hoping beyond hope that he hadn't heard her, but of course he had.  
  
His gaze was intense, practically burning through her, and all she could do was stand there and let it. "And... " he moved closer, searching her face, her eyes, for an answer. "How would you know that, love?"  
  
Her knees went weak when she heard the huskiness of his voice. His voice, which had never affected her before her time travel experience, seemed to constantly make her knees weak now, and send shivers down her spine. She licked her suddenly dry lips and forced air into her lungs. "I told you, you were drunk. I helped you--"  
  
"To bed. Yeah, I remember what you *said*." He almost sounded angry. At her? Why? Had he guessed that he'd slept with her and hated her for it now?  
  
"It's the truth," she defended, trying not to let the hurt show. And it was the truth. She had helped him to bed... sorta. And he had been drunk. She'd just left out the part where they had sex.  
  
"If you say so, pet."  
  
His voice told her he didn't believe her, but he didn't pursue it, for which she was extremely grateful.  
  
"I do."  
  
"Good." He picked up his duster and swung it on.  
  
"Good," she repeated weakly. "Great."  
  
"Come on, I'll take you home." Once again, they walked quietly along. When they were almost in front of her house, he broke the silence. "That spell you did--"  
  
"Isn't a big deal, I already told you that." She hugged her arms around herself. "I was just tired of the pain and the emptiness. It doesn't stop, it just keeps coming, and I don't want to be like that anymore. I can't find the demon and kill it if I'm an emotional wreck."  
  
"You're not going after it anyway. You leave the bastard to me," Spike warned her, his tone brooking no argument.  
  
Deciding against arguing with him now, Willow simply shrugged in agreement. "It wouldn't be so bad if it were just one of them, but it's not. They're all dead. Everyone I ever cared about, except you."  
  
"What about Tara? She's alive... as much as she's ever been anyway." He nudged her lightly, pushing her a few feet away.  
  
Willow didn't take the bait. "Why do you hate her so much, Spike?" It was something she'd always wondered about, but never had the courage to ask, knowing she might not like the answer.  
  
Spike looked straight ahead, squinting into the darkness as he considered her question. He finally sighed heavily, and shrugged. "Not really sure, pet. Something about her just... puts me off. So... how's Peaches? Did he give you hell after I left?"  
  
Allowing the change of subject, Willow laughed at the thought of Angel getting angry with her. Frustrated, yes. Angry? Not that he'd ever show. "Nope. But I gave him hell."  
  
He raised a skeptical brow to her. "You, Willow? I can't see you giving anybody hell."  
  
"Well, I didn't actually give him hell... but I wanted to. Does that count? 'Cause, he deserved it. They all did, for ignoring you like that. It was very rude."  
  
He chuckled, and elbowed her lightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "On my behalf even? Wow, I'm touched. Really." Then his voice turned serious. "I don't care what they think, Willow. Never much cared what others thought period, but Angel's opinion counts less than the drunk guy at the end of the bar at Willy's."  
  
"That much?" she teased.  
  
"Yeah, that much. I never liked Angel. Angelus either for that matter. They're both wankers. We tolerated each other for Dru's sake, and he taught me what I needed to know to survive, but that's about it. Believe me, he's no angel."  
  
"You're no gem yourself, Spike," Angel said from behind them. Willow and Spike spun around in the middle of the street, facing the dark haired vampire. Angel's brown eyes found Willow's.  
  
Willow shrunk back a little at the anger she saw there. Apparently she'd been wrong, Angel would show her his anger. For the second time that night, Spike pushed her behind him in an attempt to protect her, and as much as she wanted to go, 'aww' she didn't want to watch him and Angel play the testosterone game. Especially since Angel seemed to think Spike's gesture was hostile.  
  
"What are you doing?" she hissed.  
  
"Could be Angelus," he hissed back.  
  
Willow rolled her eyes and sighed in impatience. "That's not Angelus. That's plain old Angel." She saw Angel's eyes flicker to hers briefly, and called over, "Sorry," as she stepped out from behind Spike. She moved between the two vampires, looking from one angry visage to the other, unsure how to break their standoff.  
  
Angel sighed in exasperation, tossed Spike a glare, strode over to where she stood and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her out of earshot of Spike. Guess that took care of the standoff.  
  
"Willow," he said, then did the weirdest thing. He chuckled. Actually chuckled. She stared at him, suddenly nervous. Uh-oh. Angel didn't chuckle. Angelus did.  
  
She worked her arm free, and sidled away from him. "Um. Yeah?"  
  
He looked perplexed, but shook it off. "You, uh... you do remember Spike's evil, right? A cold-blooded killer?"  
  
She nodded. "Yeah, the killer part is true, he kills demons and vampires nightly. But the evil part? Um, no. Not anymore. I mean, yeah, if he could kill humans, he probably would. But he can't."  
  
"All that's stopping him is a piece of... plastic or metal or whatever. Buffy trusted him? Giles trusted him?"  
  
Willow's temper flared at the vampire in front of her. "You weren't here. You have no idea what's been going on, or anything about anything. Yes, Buffy trusted him, and Giles, and Dawn and Mrs. Summers, and--" she threw her arm out, gesturing to Spike, who was standing in the middle of the street watching them closely, but keeping his distance. "He's been a friend for a while. Not the killing kind, but the being nice kind. So, you know what? Don't come here after two years and tell me anything. No, he doesn't have a soul, but he's also never tortured my friends." She added this last part spitefully, and regretted it instantly, but she didn't apologize.  
  
Angel stared down at her, guilt warring with his anger. Guilt won out. "You're right. I don't know what's been happening here. But I do know Spike. He'll always be a killer, always enjoy it, and always look out only for himself. Himself and Drusilla." He took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. "I'm just trying to look out for you. With Buffy and Giles gone... " He looked away for a second. "There's no one to look after you."  
  
"I can look after myself, Angel. I'm not a child." Her voice was gentle, trying to take away the harshness of her previous words.  
  
"We're going back to L.A. tomorrow night. I want you to come with us." He threw a look at Spike, who flipped him off. Angel turned his back on Spike and cleared his throat. "Cordelia said you can stay with her. I've got a huge hotel with lots of rooms to choose from, if you don't want to stay with Cordy."  
  
Willow gave him a genuine smile, thinking about it for all of two seconds. "I can't. My life is here, I have Tara and my parents, school. And Spike." She also hadn't given up hope on Past Spike. Maybe the changes just hadn't taken effect yet... for some unknown reason. Spike grinned at her and she realized that he could hear their conversation. "I'm fine. Really. Thank Cordelia for me though?"  
  
"Sure." He lowered his voice slightly. "Willow, this demon that killed them... are you positive it wasn't Spike?"  
  
She nodded emphatically. "Yes, I'm sure. Spike couldn't have done this." She knew he hadn't done it, she just hoped she was right about him not wanting to do it. She knew he wouldn't have hurt Buffy, but she wasn't sure about the rest of them. Herself included.  
  
She looked at Spike. He was watching her intently. Probably warning her not to mention his feelings for Buffy. She brought her attention back to Angel and found him studying her.  
  
"What?"  
  
He didn't answer, just looked from her to Spike. She fidgeted slightly under his perusal, but managed not to blurt out every secret she'd ever been told. "What aren't you telling me?" he finally asked.  
  
"Nothing. I'm not telling you anything... I mean, I'm not *not* telling you anything. Ugh. You know what I mean." He grabbed her elbow and steered her to the sidewalk as a car cruised past.  
  
He chuckled. Again. Her eyes widened, and she moved away from him again. Spike joined them, shooting Angel a glare. Willow moved closer to Spike, not quite sure anymore if Angel truly was Angel. She'd never heard him laugh. And tonight, she'd heard it twice. What was going on here?  
  
He sighed heavily, glaring at Spike. His brooding look returned and she felt a little safer. She put her hand on his arm gently. "Are you all right? You, um, you seem a little--"  
  
"Angelus-like?" Spike interrupted. "Where's the Brood Boy we all know and hate?" Willow elbowed Spike, hard. "Oomph! Hey. That hurt, Witch."  
  
Willow snorted rudely. "Duh. It was supposed to." Angel was watching them again. "See?" she pointed to Spike. "He's not going to kill me. He's all safe and stuff."  
  
Angel finally seemed to accept it. "If you need anything... give me a call. And you," he pinned Spike with a glare.  
  
Boy there was a lot of glaring going around tonight, she thought.  
  
"She gets hurt? You get dead." Angel turned, and strode away, his black coat billowing out behind him.  
  
Spike snorted in disgust. "Damn poofter. Always gotta be so dramatic." He grabbed her arm and pulled her along.  
  
Willow glanced over her shoulder as Spike's duster billowed out behind him.  
  
  
  
(September 2001)  
  
Spike stalked through the cemetery, hunting for the shapeshifter, and staking any vampires he came across. At first, he'd hesitated at taking on the slayer's job, but then he'd realized that it was necessary. The demons all knew she was gone, and the town was essentially slayer-less for the time being. That didn't bode well for the town, and since Spike was *in* the town, he took up the slack left behind by Buffy's death.  
  
Spike was still considered a traitor in the demon world, and no one was talking to him, so information was coming a little too slowly for his liking.  
  
A sound to his left had him walking in that direction, stake in hand, ready to strike.  
  
"So, it's true," Angel said in amazement. "I didn't believe it when Willow told me... but, here you are."  
  
Spike dropped his hand and turned away in disinterest. "Oh, it's you."  
  
Angel's hand clamped painfully onto Spike's shoulder. "I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss me, Spike. I may have a soul, but I'm still a vampire, and considering the last time I saw you, your little friend was torturing me with hot pokers... well, let's just say the demon's looking for a little revenge and you're giving me every excuse to let him take it."  
  
Spike shrugged off Angel's hand. "Yeah? Well, why don't you go flog yourself a few thousand times, beat it into submission? And then you can sod off. I've got a job to do."  
  
"Nah, I've pretty much done that." Angel moved directly in front of Spike, forcing the younger vampire to stop. His dark eyes glittered dangerously as he stared at Spike. "What are you doing, Spike? This isn't you. The big hero type? That's for people who don't need the attention and glory it brings. Also, it's for people who aren't evil blood-sucking creatures without souls. You fit into neither of those categories."  
  
Spike tapped his stake against his thigh. Angel was right, this wasn't a Spike type gig. So why was he doing it? Why did he feel obligated to carry on the work of the woman he loved? To protect the woman who had survived?  
  
Simple. Spike had changed, and Angel didn't know him any longer. Never really had, actually. Twenty years of killing and maiming together didn't make Angel an expert on Spike.  
  
"Believe what you want, Angel, you always do. Always got those big, lofty opinions in that gelled head of yours, and according to you, they're always right. You're always right. Been that way since I've known you, and I don't expect you'll be changing any time soon." He stepped around Angel, knocking him aside as he went. "Buffy was the same way. You two were well suited." He'd meant to keep the jealousy and bitterness out of his voice, but hadn't even come close to succeeding.  
  
Angel swung him around and punched him in the jaw. "Buffy is off limits to you," he said furiously.  
  
"Yeah, what else is new?" Spike mumbled, rubbing his jaw.  
  
"You don't get to talk about her--" Spike's fist to his gut cut him off.  
  
"You've got no claim on her anymore, so just go back to hell where you belong, you bloody bastard." Spike shoved past him again and stalked out of the cemetery, a little surprised that Angel let him go.  
  
After patrolling two more cemeteries, Spike decided to head home. On his way, he finally saw it. Saw himself actually. It was walking across the street ahead of him, moving through the darkened streets with no purpose, no destination. When it headed into the sewers, Spike followed it.  
  
  
  
(February 2000)  
  
Spike was in a foul mood. After his generous rescue of Tara, he'd gotten no recognition from Willow. No kiss, no hug. No anything whatsoever. Just a simple thank you. So, he'd decided to step up his seduction of her. But so far, things hadn't gone as planned.  
  
Willow spent less and less time at the watchers apartment these days, and more and more time at the witch's dorm. The two witches were together nearly every waking moment, and it was impossible for Spike to get Willow alone. Let alone seduce her.  
  
But tonight, tonight he was going to make a move. A bold step. Tonight, he was going to talk to her. Well, more than talk if things went the way he planned. He'd had a few bags of blood, a few beers, and was headed to the Bronze. She wouldn't be there, but according to Willow's notes, he was going to meet Anya in the alley behind the club, and she would take him to a party that Willow was at.  
  
He waited out in the alley, scaring the few people that went by. Generally enjoying himself.  
  
He'd been there for an hour when he heard his sixth victim coming down the alley. This had better be Anya, because he was getting tired of waiting. He prepared to scare whoever it was, hoping that, if it wasn't Anya, it was an old guy. Maybe he'd have a heart attack, and Spike could drain him without the chip going off. Fear was a wonderful thing.  
  
Spike waited until the person rounded the corner, then leapt out, vampire face on, and growled.  
  
The girl jumped back with a scream.  
  
It was Anya. Spike tossed her an annoyed glance for not being an old man with a heart condition. "Oh, it's you," he said.  
  
"Spike," she said petulantly, "What are you doing? You made me yell really high."  
  
"Hey. Yeah, I did. I scared you." He grinned cockily, and walked up to her, getting right up in her face. "Gimme money."  
  
"I'm not paying you for scaring me," she told him, then had the audacity to push him away. Stupid bint.  
  
"You're not paying me. I'm robbing you."  
  
"Oh, well now that's just ludicrous. You can't hurt me because you've got that chip in your brain. Also, I like my money the way it is... when it's mine." She started to walk by him.  
  
He couldn't let that happen. He growled and spun her around.  
  
"Oh, now come on," she scoffed. "You're not even bumpy anymore."  
  
What? He felt his forehead with his fingers, and sure enough, she was right. "Oh. I was just a minute ago. Hang on." He stood back a ways. "Get me mad again."  
  
Anya sighed. "Does this really work? Scaring people into giving you their money?"  
  
"Yeah, it works. Keeps me in blood and beers." He grinned. "Plus, you know, funny. Watching the little humans quail."  
  
"I'm beginning to understand why you're so friendless."  
  
That one hit a little too close to home. "Look who's talking!" He raked his eyes over her scornfully. "I don't see droopy boy on your arm. Did he have better things to do?"  
  
Anya crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow at him, not at all amused.  
  
  
  
(February 2000)  
  
Inside the Bronze, Spike and Anya sat on a couch, drinking beer, and basically looking pretty damn pathetic. Anya had just finished telling him about her fight with Xander, and he was trying not to think about Willow, trying not to yell at Anya to hurry up and get around to mentioning the party. He knew he was obsessing over Willow, it was something he did often. Maybe too often. But, he couldn't seem to help it. When he wanted something, he didn't often stop until he was in possession of it. Or her. And he wanted Willow.  
  
"Boy, I miss those powers," Anya said.  
  
He stretched his arm along the back of the couch, relaxing. "Yeah, tell me about it," he said. After their conversation in the alley, they'd headed inside for a few beers and woe swapping. He'd told her some things about Dru, and nothing about Willow. Anya was, after all, friends with the slayer and her gang, she'd probably run straight to them and tattle.  
  
"A year and a half ago," she was saying, "I could have eviscerated him with my thoughts. Now I can barely hurt his feelings." She sighed. "Things used to be so much simpler."  
  
Spike took a sip of his beer. "You know... you take the killing for granted," he said wistfully. Oh, sure, he could still kill demons and vampires, it just wasn't as fun and satisfying though. Humans tasted better.  
  
Anya nodded nostalgically.  
  
"And then it's gone, and you're like, 'I wish I'd appreciated it more.' Stopped and smelled the corpses, you know?"  
  
"Yeah," she agreed. "Now everything's complicated."  
  
"It's a terrible thing, love is. I've been there myself." He paused, thinking about Dru. The love of his life. Non life. Whatever. And now this thing with Willow. He had no luck when it came to women. "It ended badly," he confided.  
  
"Of course it did. It always does. Seen a thousand relationships. First there's the love, and sex, and then there's  
nothing left but the vengeance. That's how it works."  
  
Spike smiled, and leaned in close to her as an idea formed. "You and I... should just go do the vengeance. Both of us! You eviscerate Xander, and I'll stake Dru. Like a project." Yeah, kill the bitch. She was the reason he was here. The reason he was lusting after some little college girl. With really awful clothes.  
  
Anya looked tempted for all of a second. "I don't know. I just can't." She sighed again.  
  
Spike had known she wouldn't do it. Not that he would have either. He took his arm down.  
  
"You can go do Dru though," she said encouragingly.  
  
Spike nodded. "Yeah. I will." He sat back. "Maybe later."  
  
  
  
(February 2000)  
  
Spike walked into the party trying not to let his excitement show. He couldn't see Willow yet, but then again, it wasn't for sure that she was even there yet. Anya had finally gotten around to mentioning the party that Xander had invited her to about an hour after their conversation started. He'd practically jumped up in his eagerness.  
  
As soon as they went through the door, Spike spotted a familiar looking guy leaving. "Hey, I know these guys from somewhere."  
  
"Initiative soldiers, they live here. Experiments happen in the lab under the house," she told him.  
  
Spike stared at her. Was she stupid?  
  
"It's where they kept you, put in your chip. Let's have fun!"  
  
"What are you doing? You brought me *here*?" He couldn't believe she'd brought him here. She had to be daft. All those years must be catching up with her. And, great, there was the moron.  
  
"Anya? What are you doing?"  
  
Anya turned toward Xander, who looked extremely unhappy to see them. He pointed at Spike. "You brought *him* here?"  
  
"That's what *I* said! Only I hit the 'here' part."  
  
Xander ignored him. "Anya, this is crazy." She crossed her arms and glared at her boyfriend. Xander didn't seem at all fazed by her show of anger. "We had a little fight. It just means that we have to work our way through some stuff. It doesn't mean that we rebound with the evil undead."  
  
Spike glared at him, offended.  
  
"And what have we been doing with him anyway?" Xander asked.  
  
Spike grinned at the whelp. "Oh, who's the puffedup manly man? All splotchy and possessive." He walked over to Xander, examining him.  
  
"It's not very convincing, is it?" Anya asked.  
  
"Yeah. I see now what you said about him earlier." He looked Xander up and down, not at all impressed. "No follow through."  
  
Xander was not amused. He called out loudly, "Hey! What a surprise! Hostile Seventeen!"  
  
Spike tried to shut him up, but he couldn't do any real damage without setting off the chip, which would probably attract more attention than Xander was.  
  
Xander went on, enjoying himself. "Can I get you a drink, Hostile Seventeen?"  
  
Spike looked around anxiously to see if anyone had heard him, but most of the party goers were too drunk or too involved in their own little groups to pay Spike any attention.  
  
"Xander, stop," Anya told him.  
  
A couple of people walked in front of Spike suddenly, and he jumped back, his pride suffering greatly at his chicken-like behavior. The guys all ignored him though, and he looked around. Hmm. Nobody was even glancing their way.  
  
"Pfft!" His confidence renewed, he decided it was time to find Willow. "Well, may be some fun to be had in the lion's den after all. You two keep scrapping. I'll find the liquor." He walked away, leaving them to their fight.  
  
  
  
Spike sat down in a chair by a couple of beer kegs, and took a drink of his own beer. So far there'd been no sign of Willow at all. He knew she was here, he just couldn't figure out where.  
  
A drunk guy across from him kept staring at him and frowning, annoying Spike even more.  
  
"Hey, buddy," the guy finally said. "You look familiar."  
  
"Yeah. I get that a lot," Spike told him.  
  
The guy kept frowning and looking at him, so, to avoid suspicion, Spike just sat there.  
  
Bloody hell.  
  
  
  
A few minutes later, the drunk guy gone, Spike resumed his search for Willow. He finally spotted her on the stairs, looking up with a worried frown. He weaved his way through the students, trying to get to her. A crowd had gathered against one wall, and Spike pushed a few of the kids out of his way. His hand brushed the wall and a feeling similar to desire and something else burned through him. What the hell? He held his hand against the wall for a few seconds, before yanking it back.  
  
Son of a bitch.  
  
He looked around him. A few people were moaning in orgasmic delight, their hands on the wall, while the rest of the crowd cheered them on. Didn't these people feel the undercurrent of evil?  
  
Several of the people touching the wall shuddered orgasmically.  
  
Apparently not.  
  
By the time he made it to the stairs Willow was gone. He took them two at a time, and headed down the hall a little ways. He heard her talking to someone and stayed where he was, listening.  
  
"Tara? It's me." She knocked on a door. "Tara?"  
  
Spike heard a door open, and peered around the corner.  
  
"Tara?" she called again, before disappearing inside the room. A minute later, he heard her scream.  
  
She came out of the bathroom, looking scared to death. He grabbed her and held her still, resisting the urge to pull her into his arms. "What happened?" he asked.  
  
She was shaking a bit, but her voice was steady. "Ghost boy. Drowning in a tub. I-- I tried to save him, but, being a ghost already, well, I was way too late."  
  
"You okay?" As a pretense to protecting her, he pulled her closer to his side. She felt so good. All warm and soft and sweet smelling. He closed his eyes and inhaled her scent, twining his hand with hers to steer her toward the stairs.  
  
"I'm okay. Just, you know, scared to death." She looked around the hallway. "Tara ran up here a while ago. I was looking for her. She-- have you seen her?"  
  
"No," Spike said curtly. His hand tightened on hers when she mentioned Tara, bringing her attention to the fact that he was holding it. She raised their clasped hands, staring at them. She seemed to be as mesmerized by them as he'd been the night they'd slept together.  
  
After a few seconds, she shook her head slightly, and looked around again. He was pleasantly surprised when she didn't take her hand from his. "She must be downstairs then." She stopped at the balcony, searching through the people below.  
  
Spike stood behind and slightly to the side of her, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and press her back against him. To just hold her. Kiss her again. Taste her. He took a step closer to her, and ran his hand through her hair.  
  
She swung around, pulling her hand out of his and backing up slightly. "What are you doing?"  
  
Spike looked at her in confusion. "What? Why? What'd I do?" Uh-oh.  
  
She smoothed her hair down with her hand and frowned. "You... *touched* my hair."  
  
He snorted and rolled his eyes. When in doubt, lie. "Well, yeah. There was something in it." He tried his best to look innocent and wronged, hoping she wouldn't ask what had been in her hair. Think, man, think.  
  
She shook her hair out as if it were crawling with snakes. "What *thing* was in it? It wasn't a tarantula, was it? 'Cause, I have issues. Also? Been there, done that."  
  
Or spiders, he thought.  
  
He shook his head reassuringly. Think, damn it. "No. No spiders. It was a, uh... " Okay, haunted house... whatever was there, could conceivably have disappeared. "Leaf." He groaned inwardly at his lame excuse, and made a show of looking at the floor, searching for it. "Must have disappeared. I think this place is haunted. Or something."  
  
"A ghost leaf?" She looked at the floor too, but, obviously found no leaves. "Or something," she agreed, before resuming her search for Tara.  
  
Spike glared at the crowd below. Damn the blonde witch. He needed to get Willow away from there. Get her alone. And he couldn't do that if Stutter Girl ran off, worrying her. He needed Willow's complete focus and attention. But, tonight wasn't the night. Again.  
  
In the meantime, he'd have to settle for accidental touching. Maybe graduate to copping a cheap feel later. He stood right next to her at the railing, pressing up against her arm and pretending to look for Tara. She didn't pull away, he noticed. A slow smile crept up his face.  
  
Too soon, the moment was over. "There's Xander. Let's get him and get out of here." She ran down the stairs and toward Xander. Spike followed a little more slowly. By the time he got there, Willow had just finished telling Xander about the ghost boy. A group of kids beside them were playing spin the bottle and being generally loud and annoying.  
  
"A ghost?" Xander was saying.  
  
Spike stood next to her, hoping for another cheap feel. She nodded at Xander, still looking around for Tara.  
  
"What's the deal? Is every frat on this campus haunted? And if so, why do people keep coming to these parties, 'cause it's not the snacks."  
  
Tara decided to show up finally. She touched Willow's arm, as if Willow belonged to her. Spike snarled at the girl, but none of them noticed.  
  
"Tara, how are you?" Willow asked, all concern and caring. Spike wanted to rip her out of the blonde's grasp and carry her to his crypt to make slow, passionate love to her.  
  
"I'm okay, but... I-- I don't like it here. This house... I-- I think we should go."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. Good God, girl. Spit it out.  
  
Willow nodded in absolute agreement. With Tara, not him, unfortunately.  
  
Xander glanced over at the kids on the floor, as the laughter got louder. The bottle was spinning faster and faster, then suddenly exploded. People started yelling as broken glass flew all over the place.  
  
"We need Buffy," Willow said. She and Xander ran off. Tara shot Spike a nervous glance, then followed them. Spike grinned at the fleeing girl. That's right, little girl, run, 'cause you're gonna be the first one I kill.  
  
He sat down in the chair he'd been in earlier, not exactly relishing another run-in with the Slayer. People were starting to panic, running around like chickens with their heads cut off.  
  
He smiled. "Well, this party's starting to liven up after all." Suddenly, straps shot out of the chair's arms, wrapping around his chest, wrists, legs, and mouth.  
  
"Mmph!"  
  
Spike struggled hard, and managed to pull the restraints off himself. He jumped up, about to go searching for Willow, when he spotted her and the others by the door. He joined them and they all left the house.  
  
Spike, Willow, Anya, and the witch stood outside the house, staring up at it. Xander was trying to help some girl with a really bad haircut. The girl ran off, and Xander joined them again as Spike lit a cigarette.  
  
"We have to go back in there," Willow told them. She was looking all worried and cute. Spike once again moved to stand beside her. Tara was the only one to notice how he always seemed to end up next to Willow, and Spike knew she suspected something. Good. Maybe now she'd just back off and leave Willow to him.  
  
"Why?" Anya was asking, ever the voice of reason.  
  
"Because Buffy and Riley are trapped," Xander explained.  
  
"So?" Willow and Tara looked surprised at the ex-demon's gall. Spike grinned. "She's the Slayer, he's a big soldier boy, what do they need you for?"  
  
The moron was getting mad now, apparently having had enough of his girlfriend's selfishness. "Anya, look around. There's ghosts and shaking, and people are going all Felicity with their hair. We're fresh out of super-people, and somebody's gotta go back in there." He took a deep breath. "Now who's with me?"  
  
He was rather surprised to see Willow hesitate. Tara, he'd expected to chicken out. But not Willow. It had been her idea after all, and she was always the first one to offer help when it was needed.  
  
He'd have to break her of that.  
  
Well, here was his chance. Be the hero, save the Slayer and her boy toy, and hopefully get the girl. "I am," he said.  
  
Everyone turned to look at him, surprise evident on their faces.  
  
"I know I'm not the first choice for heroics." He dropped his cigarette and ground it under his boot. "And Buffy's tried to kill me more than once. And, I don't fancy a single one of you at all," he lied, his eyes flickering to Willow's. "But... I'm in." He saw Stutter Girl watching him and Willow, and smiled slyly.  
  
Willow raised a curious eyebrow at him. He shrugged in response, acting as if it were no big deal. Now wasn't the time to tell her he was doing it for her, and only her.  
  
"Xander, let's get out of here," Anya urged.  
  
"You wanna bail, fine," Xander said, then pointed at the house. "I'm going back in there, and I'm not coming out 'til I bring my friend with me."  
  
Spike headed onto the porch with Xander, then stood watching as he opened the door and peeked inside. Spike may be acting the hero, but he wasn't dumb. He'd let Xander go first. Xander disappeared inside, then suddenly flew backward, landing several yards down the path with a painful groan.  
  
Spike twisted his grin into a frown for Willow's sake. She and Anya looked pretty upset.  
  
Xander was glaring at Spike. "Or... it... could be Watcher time," he moaned.  
  
"We'll-- we'll go to Giles'," Willow said.  
  
Tara shook her head. "No, no, wait, he-- he isn't there. He was going to the Espresso Pump." She smiled at Willow, and Spike had to once again resist the urge to kill her.  
  
It was time to go, otherwise, implant or not, the blonde witch would be dead tonight. "Okay, you let me know how it ends, huh?" he asked, his tone telling them how much he didn't care. "Ta-ta." He strode off into the night with one last look at Willow. Soon, Red, his eyes promised. He didn't miss Tara's widened eyes. 


	9. What Comes part9

Disclaimer: See part 1, or 6.  
  
PART 9  
  
(October 2001)  
  
Spike crawled further through the sewer tunnel, cursing silently when his hand squished in something unidentifiable. He quickly wiped his hand on his pant leg and sat back on his heels, listening. He was going to need one hell of a long, hot shower when he got out of here. When he heard only silence, he peered around the tunnel entrance. The demon he'd followed in here was kneeling in the middle of the tunnel, head bowed and arms folded in supplication.  
  
Spike was sure that this was the demon that had killed Buffy and the others. He was sure, because he was staring at himself, except for the color of his clothes. An exact replica. The demon's head suddenly turned toward him, and, as he watched, the demon shimmered and morphed into Drusilla.  
  
Spike sucked in a breath and held it as the demon Dru stood up and moved in his direction. A secret smile lit her face, and her long dark hair swayed as she approached him. Spike stood up, staring at the vision of his first love.  
  
Halfway to him, Dru halted for a second, regarding him curiously. Then her hair lightened, turning blonde, and she morphed into Buffy. He backed away, reminding himself that this wasn't Buffy, this was not the Slayer. Not the girl he loved. This was a demon. The demon that had killed Buffy.  
  
Spike was here to kill her. It. To kill it in retaliation for Buffy and Dawn. Even Giles, Xander and Anya. And for what it had done to Willow.  
  
Yet, he made no move toward it. In fact, he kept backing away from her. Being faced with a smiling, inviting Buffy was almost more than he could take. He wanted to go to her. Hold her. Touch her. Do everything he'd never gotten to do. Not to the real Buffy anyway. But he didn't. He backed away another step.  
  
Once again, she halted, tilting her head to the side. Her blue eyes blinked once. Twice. And then she was shimmering again. Her hair shortened. Turned red. Willow.  
  
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, backing into the tunnel wall. What the hell was with this thing? Was it going to take on the form of every woman he'd ever known? Who was next? Joyce? Darla?  
  
When he opened his eyes again, Willow was standing right in front of him. Just as Dru and Buffy had done, she smiled at him in invitation. Then she pressed herself against him, and pulled his head down for a kiss.  
  
That broke the spell. If it had been Dru or Buffy who kissed him, Spike wouldn't have had a chance. But this was Willow, and he didn't think of her like that.  
  
Yeah, right, he scoffed.  
  
Well, okay, she didn't think of him like that then. There. Explained away.  
  
He slid a stake out of his duster pocket and pressed it against her chest. She took a few steps back and stared at the stake. Her smile turned into a sneer. "You think that will kill me?" she asked in Willow's voice.  
  
Spike shrugged. "Bound to do some damage. If it's not permanent, that only means I get to hurt you twice."  
  
Big talk for a vampire cowering against the wall of a sewer tunnel, he thought.  
  
Fake Willow laughed lightly at his bravado. "I've set things in motion and you're trying to interfere. Stay out of it."  
  
"Why? So you can kill more people?" He took a step toward the shapeshifter and tossed his stake from hand to hand. His smile was light, pleasant. "What are you doing? Opening the Hellmouth? Raising a demon who thinks he's the next coming of Elvis?"  
  
Her eyes narrowed. "Interfere, and this," she motioned to her form, "will die. I don't think you want that." She smirked at him and tapped his chest. "You care for her. Just as you cared for the other forms I took."  
  
Spike snorted. "Your psychic abilities tell you that? 'Cause if they did, I'd ask for a refund." He swung the stake into his left hand, brought it up suddenly, and shoved it into Willow's chest. She gasped in surprise, then waved her hand in the air in front of them.  
  
The air shimmered, and suddenly Spike saw Willow. The real Willow. She was at her parent's house, kissing Tara goodbye. Tara waved as she went down the walk. Willow shut the door and took two steps into the living room before collapsing to her knees, her face a mask of pain. She grabbed her chest, gasping for air.  
  
Spike looked down at the Willow in front of him as she grabbed his hand with both of hers and pushed the stake further into her chest. As she did, the real Willow screamed and fell forward, catching herself with one hand, before sliding forward and collapsing to the carpet, unconscious.  
  
Spike hesitated. He didn't know what to do. Kill the demon and possibly Willow? Or save Willow, leaving the demon alive?  
  
He couldn't lose Willow too. He couldn't be completely alone.  
  
With a growl of frustration, Spike yanked the stake out of the demon and the image disappeared. Her delighted laughter echoed through the tunnels as Spike ran back the way he'd first come.  
  
"Hurry, vampire," Fake Willow taunted, still laughing. "Hurry."  
  
  
  
(????)  
  
Willow woke up in Spike's crypt, laying on his bed. He was nowhere in sight, but she heard his lighter snap shut and smelled cigarette smoke. She smiled, remembering their night of lovemaking, and stretched contentedly, yawning.  
  
"I dreamed I went back to my own time, and you didn't remember, um, you know. Makes a girl self-conscious. I didn't tell you anything, but, boy were you curious," she told him, rolling over.  
  
He was standing a few feet away, the ever present cigarette in his mouth, leaning against the wall, watching her. His face was blank, his eyes guarded. "Was I?"  
  
She frowned. "What's wrong?" A thought struck her suddenly and she sat up, looking down at herself. She was fully clothed. Oh, God. Her eyes flew to the unbroken chair, then slid shut. Oh, God.  
  
When she opened her eyes again, he was still there. Still watching her. Still smoking. She pasted a grin on her face. "Gotcha."  
  
He pushed away from the wall and approached her slowly, shaking his head. "Nice try, Willow." He stood directly in front of her and dropped his cigarette to the ground, stepping on it. Suddenly he grinned, and pulled her toward him, kissing her soundly on the mouth. "Gotcha. How'd you get back here, love?"  
  
Willow was so surprised that her Spike had just kissed her, that she didn't even hear his question. "Wh-- what?" she asked, pushing him away. He was playing with her. Had to be. Acting like Spike from the past, trying to get her to tell him what had happened between them. That's what this was.  
  
"How'd you get back here?" He kissed her again, chuckling. "Bloody hell, pet, past you is a bit of a stick in the mud. You won't even talk to me unless one of the others are around." He pulled her up against him and held her. She closed her eyes and sighed. This felt good.  
  
He was right, a year ago she'd avoided him at pretty much all costs. He'd made her nervous. Chipped or not, she had still been afraid of him. And a bit attracted to him. But this wasn't that Spike, and she wasn't back in time again. The chair wasn't broken. Did he really think she was that gullible?  
  
He pulled back, looking at her expectantly, his smile slipping a bit when she stayed silent. "What's wrong?"  
  
She shook her head with a small smile. "Nothing. Well, except for you kissing me. 'Cause... um, why did you?" Yeah, way to convince your Spike that had never happened before.  
  
His jaw did that oh-so-sexy tightening thing, and she found herself having sudden breathing problems.  
  
"What's the date?" he asked.  
  
What was he up to? "October, two thousand and one."  
  
His grin was back. "Then what's the problem? Last I saw you, you were naked in my bed, now you're asking me why I kissed you?"  
  
She gasped. How had he guessed? And 'til the end, she would deny it. "I was never naked in your bed. What are you talking about?" She frowned at him in concern. "Are you feeling all right? Are you sick?" Ugh, she hated to lie like this, but she couldn't lose him as a friend. And surely she would lose him if he found out the truth.  
  
He studied her for a moment, then shook his head angrily. "Bloody hell! I can't get a break, can I?" He flung himself down in his chair and her eyes widened when it suddenly lurched forward, the front leg falling away.  
  
Not stopping to examine why she was so happy to be back with the old Spike, Willow jumped down from his bed, ran over to him and stood there grinning. She was tempted to jump into his lap, just to surprise him, but she wasn't quite that bold. "You're you? I mean, really you? Oh, I guess it helps if I tell you which 'you' I mean. Um, past you. Year two thousand you."  
He nodded guardedly, and pulled her onto his lap. When she didn't resist, he kissed her, crushing her to him as if he never wanted to let her go. "That'd be me," he whispered against her mouth, before kissing a path down her neck.  
  
Her senses leapt to life with each touch of his lips on hers, and a tingle of excitement pulsed through her. She didn't understand how or why he affected her this way, especially since her Spike--future Spike--didn't have this same affect on her. To some degree, it was there, the magnetism between them, the desire, on her part. But this raw want, and need? It wasn't present in her Spike.  
  
"Spike?" she breathed. His lips were tracing a path down her neck, sending shivers down her spine.  
  
"Yeah, love?" His hands slid under her shirt.  
  
"Spike." She pushed his hands away and pulled back slightly. "When is it? The time now, I mean."  
  
His hands dropped to her waist, holding her on his lap as she weakly tried to get up. He sighed and made a show of rolling his eyes. "Three weeks since you left. Three weeks of hell. The you that's here doesn't even like me," he pouted.  
  
She giggled. "You're such a drama queen." His hands started their upward mobility again, and she halted them on her stomach. "It's not that I didn't like you, it's just that... well, I was afraid of you. And... in case you've never looked in a mirror... which, okay, duh, you haven't, but you're pretty much a hottie. Which made me nervous, because good looking guys don't flock to me for any reason except to kill me or kidnap me." She raised an eyebrow at him pointedly, and he managed to look ashamed. "So I just stayed away."  
  
"Yeah, I know about the fear, your heart starts racing every time I go near you. But it's more than that."  
  
Willow frowned. "Maybe it's something you changed. Oh, did you change anything? 'Cause, when I got back nothing was different."  
  
He shifted slightly in the chair. "Yeah. I changed some stuff."  
  
"Uh-oh. What did you do?" She groaned loudly. She should have left the pages with someone else. This was Spike, duh. Selfish. Could care less about any of them. Future Spike had warned her that he had hated her back then. Back now. She was sitting on the lap of the vampire who hated her. She tried to climb off him again, but he held her there. He wrapped his arms around her waist and sighed contentedly. She felt his lips on her hair.  
  
"I didn't do anything bad," he mumbled. "I just... well, okay, if you want to get technical, I didn't do much of anything. Jonathan's world sucked by the way. Why didn't the slayer kill him?"  
  
Since he didn't seem to want to let her go any time soon, she relaxed and snuggled up against him. "Let's start at the beginning then. Did you help Buffy with the creature?"  
  
"Not directly. I saved your witch pal, though. Without getting so much as a thank you from you, I'll add."  
  
She sat up in surprise, smiling at him. "Really? You saved Tara from that thing?" She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."  
  
"Yeah, sure, whatever," he grumbled good-naturedly. He settled her back down in his arms, caressing her back. "Didn't do a lot of good. I got there too late, and only ended up rescuing her from a closet."  
  
"Still, thank you," she said sincerely. "What else did you do?"  
  
"Saved you from the ghost in the bathroom."  
  
"Oh," she giggled. "That was weird, huh? That whole lust thing that Buffy and Riley were generating."  
  
"Is that what it was? I was going to help save them, but--"  
  
She sat up. "Doesn't matter. It all turned out okay. The only important one, the only thing that absolutely has to be changed, is their deaths."  
  
His arms tightened around her. "So, you're all alone then?"  
  
"No. You're there. And Tara. Ow! Spike, let go." His arms squeezed her so tight she could barely breathe. She pried his arms off of her and jumped to her feet.  
  
He got to his feet as well, his eyes snapping with anger. "You're still with Stutter Girl? Why?"  
  
"Don't call her that. And I told you when I was here last time that I was with her. I love her."  
  
Spike snorted rudely. "Yeah, right, you love her. If you love her so much what were you doing on my lap just now? With my hands up your shirt? And how about the last time you were here. Didn't see you protesting too hard when I was--"  
  
"Shut up." She already felt guilty enough about her actions, she didn't need him to remind her. "It was a one time thing. Definitely not gonna happen again. Ever."  
  
Spike stalked away from her, his boots crunching angrily on the stone floor. "So letting a guy feel you up is okay, we just can't have sex, is that it?"  
  
Willow glared at his back for a second before sighing, and taking a step toward him. "No, it's not like that. I love Tara, and in my time, I have her. I don't have you because... he doesn't remember what you and I did, and he loves Buffy."  
  
Spike turned back, frowning. "Why doesn't he remember?"  
  
Willow shrugged. "I don't know, I don't get it either."  
  
He fixed the chair leg and sat down, motioning for her to join him. She knew she shouldn't. She wasn't going to either. But she did. She went to him and let him pull her onto his lap again. He cradled her face in his hands. "If he did remember... would you still be with the witch?"  
  
That was a question she hadn't even considered. What would she do? Was it even up to her? Past her would probably make the choice for her. "I don't know," she answered truthfully, sighing. "I want you, that's something I can't hide from you. But, future you doesn't seem to notice."  
  
"He knows," Spike assured her. "He'd have to be deaf, blind and dumb not to notice. And I can guarantee he wants you too."  
  
She sighed sadly. "No, he doesn't."  
  
"He does." He pulled her down for a kiss, touching her lips softly, and whispering, "I do. Now." He shifted a bit in the chair and pulled away just enough for her to see the truth in his eyes. He sat forward suddenly and moved her around so she was straddling him, then slid her hand down and pressed it against his erection.  
  
Willow bit her lip. She couldn't do this again. Fighting the desire spreading through her, she looked away from him. Hopefully she would fare better at turning him down this time. She had a girlfriend. She loved Tara. Spike was just a friend. A very attractive friend who was rubbing her hand against his erection.  
  
"I can't," she whispered miserably. Was she a hussy for wanting him so much? Desire rushed through her just from seeing him, from hearing his voice... a look, a smile, a touch, and she wanted him so badly she was willing to throw away what she had with Tara. Why couldn't she stop herself from wanting him?  
  
He hates you, she told herself.  
  
But her body wasn't listening. He doesn't hate me, not anymore. He can't. Not if he wants me. Right?  
  
She looked up into his passion-filled face. If he did, he was hiding it well. Unlike her. She couldn't hide her desire for him at all.  
  
"You can," he insisted, sliding his hands inside her shirt again. His thumbs brushed against the undersides of her breasts and she moaned. Both hands moved down her legs to the edge of her skirt, making her shiver. He pushed her skirt up to her waist, and slid his hands inside her panties.  
  
She gasped sharply. "I shouldn't." One last weak attempt at halting things before they went too far.  
  
He chuckled in her ear, knowing he had her. Or would. "You should." His hands moved around her back and unhooked her bra. Pushing the bra out of his way, he leaned forward, lifting her shirt, and ran his tongue along her nipple, teasing her before moving back down to her panties. He ripped them in half and pulled them off of her.  
  
"Oh, God, I am," she agreed.  
  
Willow could feel his impatience, and it spurred her on as well. She kissed him deeply, cradling his face in her hands. His hands left her for a few seconds, then suddenly spanned her waist, lifting her up. Her eyes flew open when she felt him sliding into her.  
  
He sat back and waggled his eyebrows, grinning at her. "Use me, baby. Feel free to shag me to death... I can take it."  
  
Willow groaned good-naturedly. "Jokes? Now?"  
  
He grinned and looked up at the ceiling. "Well? I'm waiting here... you gonna shag me or not?"  
  
Willow laughed softly. "Yes, sir."  
  
Not sure how to go about this without making a fool out of herself, Willow bit her lip, and dove in. She raised up and slid back down slowly, her inner muscles clenching in response to the friction, and just the feeling of him inside of her.  
  
Spike groaned, and grabbed her waist, but didn't move her. He was giving her complete control. Unusual thing for a vampire to give up, she thought.  
  
But that didn't stop him from pulling her against him, and kissing her hungrily. "Take it away," he whispered.  
  
She lifted herself again, and sank back down, faster this time, feeling like she was melting. Her hands moved around to his back, clawing the pale flesh. He was so deep inside her that she felt like he was touching her soul. Every movement, every sigh, every breath, drew him deeper, and she felt like he was devouring her. Body and soul. Mouth and heart.  
  
Every inch of her was explored by his gentle hands. She tried to return the favor, but it was hard to keep up a rhythm and explore him at the same time. She was driving herself to the edge, trying to reach that pinnacle. His mouth left hers to settle in the crook of her neck. This time she knew what he was doing, and encouraged him with a hand to his head. She ran her hands through his short blonde hair, reveling in the feel of Spike... just being able to touch him again after being denied him for so long.  
  
He didn't bite her in the neck, as she'd expected him to do. Instead, he lifted his head and grinned at her, then leaned her backwards, supporting her with his hands at her back, and leaned down to lick her left breast. She gasped, arching against him, holding him there. His teeth pierced the firm skin before sliding in unresisting. Though he was taking her blood, which she should have found disgusting, Willow felt like he was giving her something when he did it.  
  
Himself.  
  
She tightened around him, wanting to bring him pleasure before she found her own, but he had other ideas. He sucked at her blood, teasing the nipple of her breasts with his thumbs, and thrust his hips, sliding his length into her, and driving her over the edge. She screamed his name, needing him to know that it was for him. Only him. She fell back limply, trusting him to catch her.  
  
He continued to move inside her, and draw out her blood, but it was only a minute later that he drew her into him and went still, moaning her name as he came.  
  
She stroked his back lazily, waiting for him to recover. His chest rose and fell against hers in a parody of breathing. It was weird to see and feel, coming as it did, from Spike, a vampire that didn't need to breathe, but it was comforting.  
  
After a few minutes, she stood up, feeling the loss when he slid out of her, and straightened her skirt and blouse, re-hooking her bra. He did up his jeans as she looked around for her panties. When she didn't find them, she shrugged, and sat back down, curling up against him.  
  
She laid her head on his bare chest and sighed contentedly.  
  
Spike kissed her forehead softly, and brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. "Damn, I'm good," he said with a chuckle.  
  
Willow hit him on the shoulder with a laugh. "Cocky, aren't we?"  
  
"Well... some of us are. The rest just use it when they want it." He pulled back and leered at her.  
  
She snorted. "Yep, you've discovered my secret. I'm using you for your... um--"  
  
"Bits?" he suggested, lifting her in his arms and carrying her to his bed, where he laid her down with a quick kiss.  
  
"Bits. Yep. That's it." She rolled over on her side, watching him.  
  
She loved this. Just talking and joking around with him... it always made her feel special. Vampires had no time or patience for humans, especially Spike. But, this past year, he had actually seemed to seek her out. Probably, at first, because she was a connection to Buffy, but as time went on, they became friends. And though she thought she'd left her need to be accepted back in high school, she knew, when Spike finally did accept her, that it had been there all along. Everyone had a need for acceptance, and it wasn't something that went away once you left your childhood behind.  
  
Spike lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall, watching her. Her eyes fell on the scar on his abdomen, just above the waistband of his jeans, and she remembered her Spike's reaction to her knowing about it. Not quite ready to tackle the big one, she asked him about the round, dime-sized scar on his thigh.  
  
"Knitting needle," he said with a shrug.  
  
That was one of the last things she'd expected to hear him say. She sat up, sitting cross-legged. "Someone stabbed you with a... knitting needle?" she giggled. "Why?"  
  
His eyes never left hers as he said, "Didn't want to be dinner." She knew he was gauging her reaction to his former life. And she wanted to smile and say, 'That's nice' and move on, but she couldn't.  
  
Here again was another forceful reminder that Spike was a vampire. She'd almost forgotten. Wanted to forget. When he vamped out while fighting other demons, when he scared her by threatening her... even when she felt him bite into her during sex, she managed to forget that he was an evil demon. If she didn't remember that part, she would only have to justify cheating on her girlfriend, instead of justifying cheating on her girlfriend with a demon.  
  
But, future Spike wasn't evil. He was still a demon, but he loved Buffy. Had nearly died for her. He cared for all of them. And they cared for him. So, even if he got his bite back... would he go back to killing? Yes. But would he go back to it so easily? Would it bother him? Willow thought it just might. Not as much as it would bother a human, but she was sure it would a little bit.  
  
His expression was solemn, almost... wary. Did he care what she thought about him? Or did he simply care that she might not sleep with him again? Not wanting to get into another argument right now, she simply nodded, accepting facts.  
  
Spike looked relieved that she didn't pursue the matter. Her gaze fell on the long jagged scar on his stomach, and she raised questioning eyes to him. His hand rubbed at it absently as the smoke from his cigarette curled around him.  
  
"You mean I didn't tell you about that too?" She shook her head, not elaborating. "I'm not surprised," he said with a shrug.  
  
A minute of silence passed. "You're not going to tell me either, are you?"  
  
"No."  
  
She was even more curious now. What could be so terrible that a vampire wasn't willing to talk about his battle scars? Swinging her legs over the edge, she jumped down. She would just find out later. Maybe from her Spike.  
  
"So... how about them Broncos?" she asked, trying to break the awkward silence that had fallen.  
  
Spike's chest shook with laughter and she grinned, joining him on the other side of the crypt. He wrapped his arms around her back and held her. She sighed, a feeling of contentment settling over her. That contentment was shattered a moment later when pain shot through her chest. Her legs gave out and Spike had to support her. He picked her up and carried her to the bed.  
  
"Willow, what's wrong? What--" Another wave of pain made her cry out in agony. Spike reached out to hold her, but his hands passed right through her, and then everything went black. 


	10. What Comes part10

Disclaimer: See part 1, or 6.  
  
PART 10  
  
(????)  
  
Willow woke up on Spike's bed, in his crypt. He wasn't beside her, and she was a bit disappointed. But when she heard his lighter flick, and saw the light it created as he lit a cigarette, she smiled, remembering the night just passed. She yawned and stretched contentedly.  
  
"I dreamed that I went back to my own time. You were, like, way curious and big with the questions, but I didn't tell you... or, him, anything." A sudden feeling of deja vu passed through her.  
  
Spike, who was leaning against the marble pillar, smoking, regarded her with no expression. "And why's that, love?"  
  
Willow laid back and grinned. "Are you kidding? You were freaked enough as it is... can you imagine what future you would do if he found out about... you know?"  
  
Spike pushed away from the pillar and came closer. "Maybe he wouldn't do anything. Maybe he wouldn't mind."  
  
Willow sat up and jumped down from the sarcophagus, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. She shivered at the blank look in Spike's eyes and sat down in the armchair. "Yeah, right. Come on, Spike, if he found out I'd dressed you in a pink tutu and made you dance around the graveyard, he'd kill me."  
  
Spike's eyes darted to hers, and she couldn't help the laughter that escaped her. She laughed long and hard, holding her sides and gasping for breath. "God, you should have seen your face."  
  
Spike chuckled. "Funny, Willow. You're a real comedian. How'd you know I wasn't him?"  
  
Aside from my lack of panties, and the lack of desire when you look at me? she thought, but she kept silent on those subjects, opting for something safer.  
  
"For one thing, the chair's not broken. For another, I just left there. I admit, I didn't know at first, but the memories came back. Seems to be happening faster now." Her smile slipped a little. "Um, why am I here? All this traveling is really starting to get confusing. One minute, I'm at home, then here, only in the past, then here again, in our time... it is our time, right? October two thousand one?"  
  
He nodded, looking away from her. "I found it."  
  
"It?" she repeated, not allowing herself to hope. All thoughts of past Spike and their fantastic love making was gone. Her focus was completely on the Spike of the now.  
  
"Yeah." He stomped out his cigarette, looking uncomfortable. "Are you, uh... do you have any... are you hurt?" he finally mumbled.  
  
"No," she said curtly, wanting to know what had happened with the demon. She sat forward intently. "Did you kill it? Is it dead? Did it suffer?" His eyes shot to hers, no doubt surprised at the coldness in her voice. She didn't care what he thought, she just wanted to know. "Well?" she asked impatiently.  
  
"No, it's not dead, I couldn't--"  
  
She jumped to her feet, anger and frustration showing in her every movement. "Why the hell not?" she ground out. Even she was surprised by the amount of anger she heard in her voice.  
  
He stalked over to her and tapped her chest. She flinched a little as residual pain shot through her. "Still want to know why you're here, Willow? Huh? Think back," he told her angrily. "You said goodbye to Tara, all nice and sweet, a little kiss and a wave. Come on, think, Willow." He was practically yelling now. "You shut the door, took two steps and fell--"  
  
"How do you know this?" she whispered, suddenly not at all sure that this was *her* Spike. Or any Spike at all.  
  
"I followed it into the sewers, and before you ask, yes, I'm sure it was the right demon. It looked just like me, except the clothes." He sat down in the chair she had vacated, his anger fading. "It must have sensed me or something, because it looked right at me, and shape shifted into Dru."  
  
Her expression softened at the pain on his face. "I'm sorry."  
  
He nodded dismissively. "She came toward me, and all I could do was back away from her. But then, she suddenly stopped, and there's Buffy, all smiles and sunshine." His jaw clenched tight, and he turned his head away.  
  
He didn't say anymore, but she had to know. She needed to know everything about this demon. So she could kill it. Obviously it had read his mind and took the form of the people he loved, using that against him.  
  
"What did you do?"  
  
He looked at her as if he'd forgotten she was there. "Huh? Oh. Nothing. Not a bloody thing. Stood there watching her like a bloody fool. I couldn't make a move against it, couldn't make myself... kill... Buffy. Or Dru."  
  
Willow nodded. She probably wouldn't have been able to lift a finger either. Not if it had the face of Oz, or Tara. Or even Spike. Especially after what had just happened between them... well, between her and past Spike. Something she didn't need to be thinking about right now. There would be plenty of time for that later.  
  
He stood up abruptly, pacing restlessly around the confined mausoleum like a caged tiger. "Then it changed into you, and I staked its ass."  
  
Willow's heart stopped for a second, she was sure of it. Her first assessment had been wrong. So wrong. The demon hadn't taken on the forms of people he loved. Just people in his mind. That was painfully obvious. Extremely painful. She was having trouble breathing. She tried to sit down, but her legs gave out before she made it to the chair, and she ended up sinking to the stone floor.  
  
Pain lanced through her heart. Not like before, no, this was a different kind of pain. A pain she knew well. First from Xander. Then Oz. She had expected the next time to be from Tara, but never from Spike.  
  
He actually looked proud of himself. Proud that he didn't care about her at all. He was still talking, oblivious to her pain and inner turmoil.  
  
"Surprised the hell out of it too," he said with a grin. "Then she waved her hand in the air and suddenly I'm seeing you and Tara at your house. The stake in the demon's chest is what you felt," he told her helpfully. "She grabbed the stake and twisted it, and you passed out. I went and got you, brought you here. Figured it knew where you lived, and with you being knocked out and all, you weren't safe there."  
  
"Why should you care?" she whispered.  
  
"What?" He stopped pacing and faced her, confusion on his face.  
  
"Nothing." She hadn't meant to say that out loud. He'd tried to warn her. Told her he hated her more than all of them. She got it now. She understood.  
  
She stood up, smoothing her skirt down. "Thank you," she said politely. "I'm going home now."  
  
He grabbed her arm as she strode by him, turning her to face him. "Don't think so, Willow. I didn't save you just to have you get yourself killed. You're staying here."  
  
"Why?" She was extremely happy she had done the spell that kept control of all those bad emotions, otherwise, she would probably be a sobbing mess right now.  
  
He frowned at her, shoving his hands in his back pockets. "I just told you why."  
  
"Oh, yeah. I forgot," she said angrily. "You know what? From now on, just forget it. Don't go out of your way to help me anymore. I don't want your help, I don't need your help, and I don't need you doing me any favors." She stormed past him and yanked open the crypt door.  
  
She had only gone a few steps before he was in front of her, blocking her way. She stepped around him. He grabbed her arm, pushing her back against a tree trunk. "What's your problem?"  
  
Tired of being manhandled by Spike, Willow grabbed him by his T-Shirt and spun him around, pushing him against the tree. Her strength was somewhat lacking in the super department, so she knew he'd allowed her to move him.  
  
"I've got enough cuts and bruises without you constantly grabbing me, so keep your hands off of me."  
  
Spike's eyes narrowed at her, and she was sure she saw guilt swimming around in there. "Bloody hell, I knew it! What did I do to you? In the past," he elaborated when she remained silent. "What did I do to you in the past?"  
  
Panic swept through her. Did he know? Had he figured it out? Oh, God. Denial was swift. "Nothing, Spike. You didn't do anything. I didn't do anything. There was a whole lot of not anything going on, okay?"  
  
"Don't lie to me." He reached out to grab her, but pulled back before making contact. "You've been all secretive about what happened when you went back. I want to know why. Now." He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, anger radiating off of him in waves, and the ever present jaw clenching.  
  
She'd had enough. Where did he get off demanding answers from her? He had no authority over her. He didn't even like her. Hated her in fact, and the only reason he had saved her life earlier was because he felt responsible. Well, she was letting him off the hook. She got right in his face. "Go to hell, Spike. What happened is between me and you. The other you. And it's none of your business."  
  
She gasped when his hand suddenly shoved her hair aside. She thought he was going to bite her, but no sharp pain ripped through her. He was examining her neck with a thunderous frown. She stepped away from him, knocking his hand away.  
  
"I told you not to touch me," she snapped.  
  
"Who's mark is that?" he bit out.  
  
She threw her arms out in exasperation. "What is it with you, Spike? This one is from Harmony," she told him, pointing to the mark, then pointed to the other side of her neck. "And this one is from the demon." She kicked at a headstone sticking up a few inches out of the ground. "I'm getting tired of repeating myself to you."  
  
"Not those," he said impatiently. "The mark over Harmony's. That's a vampire bite, and it wasn't there before."  
  
Her eyes went wide and she slapped her hand against her neck, swallowing nervously. She backed away from him. "I'm leaving."  
  
"No, you're not. Get back in the crypt." His tone brooked no argument.  
  
"Bite me." She walked away from him.  
  
"Don't tempt me." He grabbed her hand, twining his fingers tightly around hers, and dragged her back the other way. "Come on."  
  
She dug her heels into the ground. "No."  
  
"Yes," he retorted.  
  
"No. Damn it, let go." She was losing her temper, and running out of excuses. "It's your bite mark," she said, nearly crowing in triumph when he let go of her in surprise. "Ha!" She danced out of his way, and took off running.  
  
Spike ran after her, tackling her to the ground. He straddled her hips, holding her wrists to keep her from hitting him. "Now, you want to tell me what the hell your problem is?" he ground out.  
  
Ignoring the good feelings pulsing through her from the position they were in, she yelled, "You." Trying to scoot out from under him, she yelped when she felt his legs clamp tighter against her.  
  
He leaned down into her face. "Keep it up, Willow, I'm enjoying it."  
  
A shiver of desire ran through her at the familiar huskiness of his voice, and the feel of him pressing so intimately into her. She immediately stopped struggling, not wanting him to know how he affected her. "You're a pig, Spike."  
  
His chuckle was low, deep. "So I've been told. Now spill."  
  
She looked up at the moon, the tree branches overhead swaying in the light summer breeze. A headstone a few feet away. In Loving Memory of John Hutchins, 1932-2000. Sad.  
  
Anywhere but at the gorgeous vampire sitting on top of her, making her feel things she shouldn't be feeling, and trying to make her tell him things she didn't want to tell him.  
  
He cleared his throat loudly. She looked at him innocently. "Yes?"  
  
"I'm not letting you up until you tell me," he laughed.  
  
"Why? Why does it matter so much?" she insisted. "Stuff happened, things were said, actions were taken. Why do you need particulars?"  
  
He sat back on his heels, not giving her an inch to move, but making himself more comfortable. His thumbs started tracing lazy circles on her wrists, and she sucked in a breath. He wasn't paying any attention to her reaction to him, though, for which she was grateful.  
  
"Simple, Willow. It happened with me. I want to know what I did, what I said, and what actions I took. How would you like it if I went back in time and did things with you, but I wouldn't tell you what we did?"  
  
"I would... probably be curious," she admitted.  
  
"W-- Willow?" a surprised voice spoke from behind her, and Willow craned her neck to see Tara standing there, watching the two of them.  
  
"Tara," Willow gasped. She tried to get up, before remembering the heavy vampire sitting on her. "Get off, Spike. Tara," she called desperately, "this isn't what it looks like. Spike. Let me up, damn it."  
  
Spike stood up, pulling Willow with him, but he kept hold of one of her hands. Willow shot him a murderous glare. "Spike," she hissed, "I'm going to take great pleasure in killing you later, but right now... let go!"  
  
He wasn't even looking at her. All his attention was on Tara, who was staring at Willow in shock. "Go back to the crypt," he told Willow.  
  
"It's just Tara."  
  
Tara came closer, a malevolent smirk twisting her lips. "Well looky here, if it isn't the vampire once again protecting the witch. Still think I should get a refund?" she sneered at Spike.  
  
Okay, not just Tara.  
  
Willow looked from one to the other. What was going on here? When she returned her attention to the demon, Tara was gone, and in her place was Oz. Willow took a step back.  
  
Oz followed her. "I missed you." His gentle smile was gone, replaced by mocking laughter. "You know, it is way too easy playing with you humans. And vampires." Now it was Buffy.  
  
Willow looked at Spike, hoping he wasn't freaking as much as she was right then. She was happy to see that he wasn't. He was watching the demon as it circled them, keeping Willow behind him at all times. This time, she let him.  
  
"How sweet," Fake Buffy sneered, then pouted. "I thought you loved *me*, Spike. Little miss plain Jane here doesn't love you. Not like I do."  
  
Willow and Spike both snorted at the very un-Buffy-like behavior. Spike stalked over to her and punched her in the face. "Go back to hell." Buffy's head snapped back with the force, but she was grinning.  
  
"Wanna see something, Spike?" Her eyes slid toward Willow and a sly smile spread across her face. "Wanna see what little miss plain Jane's been hiding from you?"  
  
Spike, about to plant his fist in Buffy's face again, halted. His eyes shot to Willow's suddenly panicked ones. Buffy leaned forward conspiratorially, and whispered, "Come on, Spike. You're dying to know."  
  
Willow closed her eyes and started chanting desperately. She couldn't let the demon show Spike. He would be disgusted. He would hate her even more than he already did. The only spell she could think to use on the spur of the moment was a relocation spell. So she did it. She asked the Goddess for protection and spoke the words. When she opened her eyes again, Buffy was still there, but Spike was gone.  
  
Oh, God, what had she done?  
  
Fake Buffy burst into delighted laughter. "Even better, Witch. Now he can see things first hand." 


	11. What Comes part11

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Fox, and Twentieth Century and whoever else has rights to it. I don't, more's the pity, but they do. No money is being made by me on this.  
  
Author's Note: This starts after season 5... and is rather AU. It has spoilers for basically all of season 4 and some of 5. I'm a Spike/Willow 'shipper, and this story is W/S. Also, this is a work in progress. I've been working on it for nearly two years now, and it's still not done, but I'm getting there. It's very long, and involed. Please hang in there, and don't give up on me if I don't update regularly. Reviews would be most welcome.  
  
Another Note: If you read this when I first posted it, you'll need to read it again to understand some of it. I've added a lot to previously posted chapters, and I couldn't begin to tell you which ones have new stuff, and which ones don't. Sorry.  
  
Dedicated: To my beta, Claudia, you rock! You all should thank her for getting more of this story.  
  
  
  
PART 11  
  
(March 2000)  
  
One minute Spike was standing in the cemetery with Willow and the demon, the next, he was standing in the cemetery alone. Where was Willow? He turned in a circle, but there was no sign of her.  
  
"Willow?" No answer. Maybe she was in the crypt. But how-- where was the demon?  
  
"Spike," a voice said from behind him. That answered the demon question.  
  
Spike spun around and grabbed Buffy by the throat. "Where is she?"  
  
Buffy's eyes widened momentarily. "Where's who?" she asked in confusion, batting his hand away.  
  
"Where the bloody hell is she?" he yelled, punching her in the nose-- and falling to the ground in excruciating pain. "Oh, hell," he groaned miserably, holding his head. Buffy hauled him unceremoniously to his feet and shoved him against the side of his crypt. His eyes focused on the girl in front of him, and his brows drew together in an agonized expression. "You're human," he whispered, unable to keep his voice from shaking.  
  
She nodded, not seeing the despair on his face. "You're just getting that now, huh? I always knew you were a little slow on the uptake. Now. Who is 'she', and why are you looking for her?"  
  
"Willow," he mumbled, looking around. The spell. Of course it had gone wrong. Now he was... where was he? His gaze fell on Buffy again. Or maybe when was he?  
  
Buffy pinned him against the crypt, fixing him with a deadly look. "What about Willow? You know, you've been getting creepy around her lately, you better not be thinking about doing anything to her."  
  
"Creepy," he repeated, trying to remember if he'd done anything even remotely resembling 'creepy' to Willow. Nothing he could remember... but maybe things had changed because of Willow going back-- um, here. Could be a nice fishing expedition for him. Putting on his best belligerent face, which wasn't too hard to slip into, he smirked at her. "What'd I do this time, Buffy? Look at her wrong?" Oops, probably should've left off calling her Buffy.  
  
Her eyebrows skyrocketed at the use of her name. "I'm talking about the way you've been following her around. Spike."  
  
Following her around? Ah, man, what had Willow done to him? "Um, where's Dawn?" he asked, getting a partial answer as to when he was. Buffy had no idea who he was talking about. So, apparently, he was back sometime before Dawn. And he was chipped, so it was last year. Well that narrows it down, he thought sarcastically.  
  
He needed to get back. But, how?  
  
There was that expression Buffy got when she was without a clue. If he admitted it to himself, he'd seen that look a lot. "Who's Dawn?" she asked with a frown. "And what about Willow? Tell me what's going on. Is Willow in trouble?"  
  
He pushed away from the crypt quickly. What if *he* was in there right now? He almost laughed at the thought. "No. She's not in trouble." Not for about a year and a half anyway. "Dawn is a, um, newly risen vampire. Uh, demon. Shape-shifting demon. Thought you were her. Yeah, she, uh, she went that way. Why don't you go after her, and I'll go see if Willow... Red's alright?"  
  
Buffy was having none of it. She shook her head with a snort. "Or. How about you come with me and we both see if Willow's alright. 'Cause if she's not? Neither will you be. Let's go." She headed off, expecting him to follow.  
  
Needing answers, and not wanting to screw with this time... like Willow apparently had, he followed behind her. She didn't say a word the whole way, but Spike hadn't expected her to. For his part, he was content to just watch her walk in front of him. It would've been nice to talk, but she would find that odd, and he was trying to avoid raising her suspicions.  
  
They got to Giles' apartment in under ten minutes, and Buffy walked right inside. Spike hesitated. The last time he'd been here, he'd found the watcher dead, massacred. And Willow close to dead. Plus, what if his invitation didn't work?  
  
"Spike," Buffy called impatiently. "Get in here." Spike took a deep breath and stepped cautiously over the threshold. No barrier. He exhaled in relief.  
  
When he turned his attention to the occupants of the room, he couldn't help the feeling of rightness and familiarity that shot through him. They were incredibly annoying, and had despised him most of the time, especially because of his feelings for Buffy, but he still liked them. He just wouldn't ever admit it to them.  
  
Four faces turned his way. Three of those faces dismissed him immediately, one didn't. He saw Willow swallow nervously and shrink away from him. Her heart was pounding so hard he half expected it to explode inside her chest. This wasn't normal Willow behavior. Something was wrong. She hadn't reacted like this around him since he got the implant.  
  
Buffy perched on the couch next to Willow. "Hey. Can I talk to you for a minute, Will?"  
  
Willow's glance flickered to Spike briefly before smiling at her friend. "Sure. What's up?"  
  
Buffy leaned over and whispered in Willow's ear. His hearing picked up the conversation, though he showed no outward signs of it.  
  
"It's about Spike. I found him in the cemetery by his crypt. He was looking for you. Any idea why?" Buffy was watching him closely while she waited for Willow's response.  
  
Spike raised an eyebrow in amusement, and smirked slightly.  
  
"No. Why-- why would he be looking for me?" Willow frowned, her eyes finding Spike's. "Um, can we go outside and talk about this? He's making me nervous."  
  
"Yeah. Come on." Buffy grabbed Willow's hand and pulled her along. "Be right back guys. Roommate stuff." They went outside, shutting the door firmly behind them.  
  
Spike waited a whole thirty seconds before following them. "Gonna grab a smoke," he told the others as he left. No one said a word to stop him. There was no way on earth he would ever admit to being slightly disappointed at that. Did they even know he was there? Shaking his head at his own pathetic thoughts, he shut the door quietly behind him.  
  
Willow and Buffy were sitting on the brick wall around the fountain, where he'd found Willow unconscious. After finding Buffy dead, he'd gone to Giles' to find the others and nearly tripped over Willow. He'd been nearly as upset about finding her dead as he had Buffy. But then he'd heard her heartbeat and wasted no time examining the feelings. He'd propped her against the wall and gone inside Giles' apartment. The smell of blood had permeated the whole room, the red and brown liquid he usually craved had been everywhere, over every surface, and he'd actually felt regret.  
  
Stepping closer to the fountain, he sighed, forcing himself to focus on their words.  
  
"--holding my hand." Willow was saying.  
  
"Touched your hair?" Buffy said, sounding stunned. "Touched you hair?" Apparently she wasn't getting past that any time soon.  
  
Willow nodded. "Uh-huh. He said there was something in it. A leaf. A ghost leaf."  
  
Spike cleared his throat, making his presence known. They both fell silent as he approached them. Willow seemed to be trying to melt into the fountain, while Buffy's glare pierced him through like a sword.  
  
"Spike, you could probably clear this whole thing up now. But I bet you won't, 'cause that'd be too easy. Too helpful. Can't have that."  
  
He shrugged carelessly. "Clear what up?" Time to get the lowdown on him and Willow. Only, this was the wrong Willow. But, maybe the other Spike had said something to this Willow.  
  
Buffy spoke up, while Willow stared at her shoes. Green tennis shoes. He smiled slightly. The girl had appalling taste in clothes. "Why are you following Willow around?"  
  
Spike didn't have an answer. He wasn't following her, his other self was. They were talking about something that he hadn't done, but he had... and it was a singularly weird experience. "I am?" he asked. "Okay." Both girls frowned at his answer.  
  
"You are," Willow said softly. "And Tara too. She's seen you outside her dorm room. And after last night... well, you're starting to scare us."  
  
"Last night?" he asked curiously, "What happened last night?"  
  
Her head shot up and she stared at him. "You don't remember?"  
  
Buffy scoffed, chuckling at his pathetically thin answers. "What? You got amnesia now or something? Please," Buffy scoffed.  
  
Spike stared at Buffy, realizing why he hadn't fallen in love with her during that first year of being chipped. He didn't even like her. She was sarcastic and self-involved. It wasn't until he got to know her better, and realized that she wasn't actually like that, that he'd started to fall for her. Unfortunately. It'd be nice if he could keep himself from loving her. But, if he did, the world might not be here anymore.  
  
Too bad, because right now, she was being a snotty, sarcastic brat.  
  
"Yeah," he grinned. "I've got amnesia. Why don't you refresh my memory, Slayer?"  
  
Willow sighed heavily. "Forget it, Buffy. I'm gonna go, Tara's expecting me." She was watching him when she said that, obviously expecting some sort of reaction from him. He raised his eyebrows in question, and she shook her head, leaving.  
  
"If you're done, Slayer, I'm gonna go too. Nice seeing you again." She rolled her eyes and went inside Giles' apartment. Once she was inside, Spike lit a cigarette and sat down. He may not like this Buffy, but his feelings for her were still there. Still raw. It wouldn't be good, for either of them, if he kept running into her, so, he'd just have to avoid her if at all possible.  
  
A few minutes later, he stood up, crushing his cigarette under his boot, and headed to his crypt, unsure where else to go. Who knew how long he was going to be here? If his luck and Willow's magick had anything to say about it... he was going to be here a long time. When he got back to his time, he was going to kill Willow.  
  
As he approached his crypt, he saw the object of his thoughts slip inside. He frowned, wondering why she was there. No better way to find out than to ask her. He went inside, keeping to the shadows just in case the other him was there. He wasn't. Past Spike wasn't. Future Spike was, and he wanted some answers.  
  
He cleared his throat loudly, making her jump and spin around. Her hand flew to her chest, and her eyes scolded him. He rolled his own eyes at her. "Why are you here, Willow?"  
  
She shrugged innocently. "Um, I just... I wanted to know-- why are you following me and Tara? Do you-- do you want a spell? I could probably find one for you. If you want. And Tara is pretty powerful, so we could probably--"  
  
"No," he said sharply. "No spells. Ever again. Remember that when you're standing around in a cemetery in, oh, say a year and a half. And there's a demon threatening you. Don't. Do. A. Spell. Got it?" Driving home the point was useless, he knew, she had never listened before, why should she now? Still, he had to try, on principle.  
  
She bit her lip in irritation. "I've got it, geez. So if you don't want a spell, what do you want?"  
  
"Nothing," he answered truthfully, hiding his amusement at her frustration.  
  
"Then why are you following us?" she practically yelled.  
  
"I'm not." Again, there was that truth thing.  
  
"Oh, no?" she asked angrily. "Then why have you been outside Tara's room almost every night? I've run into you a few times. Remember, Amnesia Boy? And last night, you--"  
  
"I, what?"  
  
"You threatened to kill Tara if she didn't leave town. And then you... " her voice trailed off.  
  
He lit a cigarette, backing off slightly. What he wanted to do was shake the answers out of her, but he doubted that would help. He glanced curiously around his home, noting the broken chair. Everything looked the same except the chair, TV, and TV stand. He sat down carefully in the chair and was assaulted by the scent of Willow. In his haste to get out of the chair, his hand slipped off the arm and landed between the cushion and the arm, hitting something soft. He yanked his hand up and stared at a pair of dark blue panties.  
  
Panties that were ripped, and smelled of Willow. He hopped up quickly, shoving them into his duster pocket before the Willow in front of him turned back around and saw them. Were they hers, or were they his Willow's? He was going on the assumption that they weren't this Willow's, but he had to be sure.  
  
One of the Willows had some big-time explaining to do. Bloody hell, why were her ripped panties in the seat of his chair? Christ. His mood was dipping way down, the more he saw of this time, and all the things that were different.  
  
"Well?" he encouraged, sitting on his bed. He laid back, ignoring her, trying to set her at ease. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he jumped back up. "Bloody hell!" Her scent was on his pillows and blankets too. In his bed. His eyes bored into hers and she shrank back. "What the hell happened last night, Willow? Spit it out now."  
  
She was watching him curiously, no doubt wondering at his odd behavior. "You're not Spike," she whispered excitedly. "Not our Spike."  
  
"Am too," he countered lamely.  
  
"Then why don't you know what happened last night? Why do you look out of place in your own crypt? And why," she finished triumphantly, "are you so antsy about what did or didn't happen?"  
  
"Fine. I'm from another time. What happened last night? I can smell you," he said angrily. He was angry at himself. The only reason her smell would be on his bed was if she'd been there. And the only reason he would have her there is for sex. Plus there was that taunt she'd thrown at him just before the demon showed up. That the bite mark on her neck was from him. He couldn't bite humans without their permission. Without any intention of pain. Which meant she'd either let him feed off of her, or it had happened during sex. Sex with Willow.  
  
"What smell? I don't wear perfume--"  
  
"I know. Not that kind of smell. Your scent. You." He walked closer, his eyes burning into hers. "You slept with him." Well, here was the moment of truth. If she denied it, then it was his Willow that had slept with him. Past him. A vampire could go crazy thinking about this.  
  
"Slept with you?" she laughed. "I didn't sleep with you." She started laughing even harder. "I have a girlfriend, thank you very much."  
  
"Yeah, Tara," he said dismissively. "Okay, so maybe you didn't sleep with him. But, how did you know I wasn't your Spike?"  
  
She shrugged, as if it was obvious. "Dunno. Ever since that thing with Faith stealing Buffy's body, Tara's been teaching me how to be more aware. See things not normally visible, that kind of thing. What time are you from?" She was watching him curiously, as if he was a puzzle needing solved.  
  
"Doesn't matter," he answered. "You still haven't told me exactly what happened last night. And I'm getting tired of asking."  
  
"Must be the future then, and you don't want to mess with the time line." Noticing his increasingly impatient look, she hurriedly added, "Okay, okay. You... our Spike, tried to kiss me."  
  
"Kiss you?" he snapped. "What the hell is going on here? I swear, I'm going to kill you when I get back to my time," he told her.  
  
Her eyes narrowed at him. "Don't threaten me."  
  
She was suddenly growing a backbone? "That wasn't a threat," he told her, "it was a promise."  
  
She got right in his face, and Spike was quite impressed. "I don't like you."  
  
"Feeling's mutual," he shot back.  
  
"Yeah? Then why did you try to kiss me?" she smirked.  
  
"That's what I'd like to know." He shoved his finger against her chest. "You. You did this. You came back here, and you screwed with things. Now I'm-- bloody hell!" He kicked the chair, putting a sizeable mark in the wood along the bottom, and stormed out of the crypt.  
  
  
  
Spike found his other self at the Bronze, drinking a beer. He watched himself, feeling an odd sense of wrongness as he neared him. Staying at a distance seemed the best bet. So he sat down on a stool in a corner, and watched. He found himself to be rather boring.  
  
And petulant.  
  
Do I really look like that? he thought. Being faced with the unabashed truth, he had to concede that he did indeed look like a pouty child. He clenched his jaw, resolving never to clench his-- bloody hell.  
  
Past Spike left a few minutes later, rudely shoving through the crowd as he passed. He was lucky he didn't set off the implant, Spike thought with a snort. There was a terrible thought. What if Past Spike's implant set off *his* implant? Nah, that was unlikely. Still, best to be careful.  
  
For want of anything better to do, Spike followed him. William, as he decided to think of him, cut through the park, jumped up on a bench and flung his beer bottle at a tree. Spike snorted again at his dramatics. Drama queen.  
  
William suddenly turned and faced him, snarling and charging. Spike, not being drunk, easily stepped out of the way. William fell face first into the grass with a growl. Spike felt that sense of wrongness growing stronger. And he suddenly knew that they couldn't have any sort of contact whatsoever, if they did, something terrible was going to happen.  
  
As soon as he was slightly away from himself, he felt a lessening of the doom and panic. He stood in plain sight, letting William see him. Their eyes locked, and William groaned.  
  
"Great. Now what's the Hellmouth throwing at me? Evil clones?" William bit out.  
  
"Nope, time travelers." When William merely blinked at him blearily, Spike rolled his eyes. "Get up, you drunken fool." He sat down on the bench, staying away from William, while remaining close enough to talk. "And tell me what the hell you're doing with Willow. Did you sleep with her?"  
  
William grinned. "You're from her time." He sat down on the opposite side of the bench, his expression becoming solemn. "Is she... is she all right? She was in pain... and she couldn't breathe--"  
  
Spike nodded curtly. "She's fine... for now. But if you don't leave her alone, she won't be. Don't sleep with her again."  
  
"Did she tell you that? That we slept together?" He sounded rather incredulous.  
  
"No," Spike admitted, wondering if maybe he'd been wrong after all. "But, she's evasive enough to make me suspicious. That, and I smelled her all over your... bed." Spike turned toward his alter ego. "If you haven't shagged her, then how do you explain that?"  
  
William rolled his eyes. "I'm not a bloody animal, you know. I got drunk, and I passed out. She--"  
  
"Helped you to bed," Spike said with a sigh. "That's what she said too." Spike eyed his younger self, wondering if he was telling the truth. He should be able to tell, this was him, after all, but he couldn't. William seemed sincere, still, he decided he'd better warn him off anyway. "Keep your hands off of her."  
  
"Seems to me that it's none of your business. If I want to shag Willow, from this time or your time, I'll damn well do it. Just because you're not man enough to take her." He snorted contemptuously. "I've heard about you, you pansy-assed Angel wannabe. Lusting after the slayer like a bloody ponce."  
  
"And you're not lusting after Willow? Not threatening her girlfriend? I know you, William. I am you. I know how you think. As soon as Willow told you about Buffy, you decided to replace her with someone else. And Willow just happened to be there. I'm not going to let you use her," Spike bit out.  
  
"Sod off," William told him pleasantly.  
  
"You're taking advantage of her, you sot. She just lost all her friends. Only thing she has left is Tara, so just back off." William opened his mouth to say something, but Spike cut him off. "If you care anything about her, then you'll bloody well leave her alone."  
  
"She's got me. Or she will have in time. You're not going to be around forever. I'm changing things. No more of this Buffy crap. I'm killing her at the first opportunity."  
  
Spike held his temper in check, though he wanted nothing more than to punch himself in the face. "You touch her, and the world will get torn to hell. Literally."  
  
Spike could see the reluctant agreement in William's eyes and sighed in relief.  
  
"Fine, whatever," William said. He regarded Spike curiously, obviously searching for something. "She's right... you have no clue." He shook his head almost sadly.  
  
Spike glared at his younger self. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Nothing," he said dismissively. "So, what's all this anger over Willow about? Want her for yourself?"  
  
Spike sat back with a laugh. "Not bloody likely. She's only a friend. And she's got the witch."  
  
William's eyes narrowed at the mention of Tara. "Stutter Girl." He shook his head in disgust. "She's not what Willow needs."  
  
"And you are?" Spike shot back.  
  
William shrugged. "Maybe." He leaned forward, watching Spike intensely. "Don't tell me you've never wondered what she hides under those fuzzy clothes she's so fond of? Or maybe you want to hear her scream your name when she--"  
  
"No," Spike snapped, lying through his teeth. "And the fact that you have, only came about because she told you about Buffy. Don't change things too much," he warned his younger self, "you might not like how things turn out."  
  
William grinned arrogantly. "We'll see." And then he was alone.  
  
  
  
(March 2000)  
  
Spike stood up, shaking his head. People had a habit of disappearing on him, and it was getting annoying. He shrugged and headed back to his crypt. He had a date with a bottle of whiskey there.  
  
As he walked, he wondered if his future self was right. Sure, he'd first set his sights on Willow because of the impending Buffy fiasco, but it was more than that, wasn't it? He didn't just want Willow to keep himself occupied, or to keep Buffy from worming her skinny blonde self into his heart. That wasn't all there was to his attraction to the redhead.  
  
He enjoyed being with her. She was-- what? Smart. Pretty. Funny... in an odd way. The sex was great. But, those were all generic reasons for being with someone. The same could be said about a lot of women, but he'd chosen Willow. Now he had a burning need to find out why. If it was simply for replacing Buffy, he could have moved on to someone else. Actually, it might have been better if he had.  
  
There was still Harmony. A shudder escaped him at the thought of the blonde bimbo he'd shacked up with. Loneliness had driven him to her. She had a nice... well, to be truthful, she had a body. She was female. And she didn't have much of a brain. When searching for the Gem of Amarrah, it had been essential that he find someone not interested in possessing it. Harmony had seemed perfect. Big on sex, little on brains. Basically, she was good at following orders.  
  
As he neared his crypt, a heartbeat alerted him to someone inside. Shades of the first time he'd slept with Willow came to mind, and he shoved the door open, hoping she was back. Though it had only been a few hours, he missed her. Everyone from this time hit first and asked questions later, it got boring. Conversation was sometimes a nice thing to have. He liked being with people... he wasn't the loner type, and since being chipped, he'd been forced to be alone. Plus Dru leaving him, and all, but mostly, he blamed the Initiative for his situation.  
  
He inhaled, smelling Willow. This wasn't the fading smell from earlier, this was the real thing. He stepped inside, his eyes falling on his bed. She was curled up under the covers, asleep.  
  
Spike grinned and closed the door quietly. He removed his duster, tossing it over the back of his chair, and took off his t-shirt as well. Still watching her, he sat in the chair and toed off his boots. He debated on whether or not to shuck his jeans, but figured, in for a penny, in for a pound.  
  
Naked now, he vacated the chair for greener pastures. His eyes slid over her, noting her bright red hair, pale skin, and her wide lips curled up slightly in a smile. He wondered what she was dreaming about.  
  
His hand slid across her cheek, his thumb rubbing lightly on her forehead. She sighed and moved closer, her smile widening. He leaned forward and kissed her softly, before pulling the blanket down. Sadly, she was fully dressed, but he would quickly be taking care of that. His hand was poised above her shirt when his eyes were caught by her hair. Her short hair. Her now hair.  
  
Flinging himself away from his bed, he grabbed his clothes and shoved them on. His pants were a bit uncomfortable now, but he was sure that would go away as soon as he woke her up and they started arguing. Damn her. Why couldn't she be the other her? Why did it have to be this Willow?  
  
"Bloody hell!" Fully dressed again, he sat down and lit a cigarette. Calming down would be good. Otherwise he was likely to either kill her or shag her... and he wasn't sure which choice sounded better at the moment. Why was she here? She had never come here. Ever. She didn't even talk to him, let alone visit him. Christ, he thought, must be about that incident last night.  
  
They'd been fighting a demon. Six vampires had decided to ally themselves to it, and Spike, having a grand old time, took all of them on alone. He'd gotten separated from the others, and was fighting alone. Or so he'd thought. After dusting five of them, he'd spun around, looking for the last one. Willow was there, the vampire advancing on her. She looked scared to death, her whole body was shaking under her orange shirt and blue-jean skirt.  
  
The vampire grinned and reached for her. Spike dove at him, but was surprised to find himself landing in a cloud of dust. He looked up to see Willow grinning, practically jumping up and down in her excitement.  
  
"I got one," she giggled. "That was so... cool." She reached down to help him up, still gushing over her one staking. "Buffy was right. Act helpless and they'll fall for it every time. Stupid vamps."  
  
Spike stared at her. She was this excited over staking one measly little vampire? Her eyes were all wide and shiny, her grin boundless. Her hair, shorter than he liked, but still flattering, blew softly around her face. Her skin was all flushed and heated. She looked absolutely beautiful.  
  
Riding high on adrenaline, and hoping she was too, Spike grabbed her by the shoulders and lowered his lips to hers. Before he could kiss her, she shoved him away.  
  
"What are you doing?" she practically shouted. She planted her hands on her hips and watched him warily. "Are you possessed or something? 'Cause... what was that?"  
  
Shaking his head at himself for being so stupid, Spike lit a cigarette. "What was what?" He acted innocent and nonchalant, but knew he wasn't fooling her at all.  
  
She headed back toward the others, tossing a confused look over her shoulder at him.  
  
Spike dropped his cigarette to the crypt floor and stomped on it. He'd have to... sweep or something, he thought absently, the floor was littered with cigarette butts.  
  
Standing up, and feeling extremely grateful for not having made the same mistake as last night, Spike stomped over to Willow. She was still asleep, still smiling, and still pissing him off. He shook her shoulder unceremoniously. "Hey... " She didn't stir, so he shook her harder. "Wake up, Witch."  
  
Willow grumbled and yawned. "What?" she whispered, snuggling back under his blanket and falling right back to sleep.  
  
He stared at her for a few seconds, then chuckled. Shaking her wasn't doing any good, so he grinned and nibbled on her ear, unable to resist tasting her. "Willow. Wake up."  
  
"No," she whined. "I was in the middle of a good dream." She yawned again, opening her eyes. Looking straight at his face, she groaned. "And, apparently, I'm still dreaming."  
  
He regarded her with amusement. "Dreaming about me, pet?"  
  
Willow's eyes flew open and locked with his. "Spike." Sitting up, she held the blanket to her chest and stared around her with wide eyes. "What am I doing here? What--"  
  
Spike lifted an eyebrow at her. "That's what I'd like to know." He took his bottle of whiskey from the table drawer and sat down. Twisting off the cap, he watched her watch him. When it didn't look like she was about to stop staring at him anytime soon, he held the bottle out to her.  
  
She shook her head sharply. "No, thanks. Last time I drank I did a spell, and Buffy ended up... " her eyes went even wider, if it was possible, and she suddenly looked scared. "So, how about them Broncos?"  
  
Spike, in the middle of taking a drink, almost choked on the whiskey. "What did you say?" He coughed a few times and wiped his mouth. Willow--his Willow--had asked him the same exact thing earlier.  
  
Willow shrugged dismissively. "Something Riley once said."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. "Spare me the Captain Cardboard-isms." And then what she'd started to say, hit him. "Buffy ended up... wanting to marry me?" He downed a fair amount of whiskey and glared at her. "You know," he said conversationally, "I wanted to kill you more than ever after that little stunt. At your little meetings, I'd sit there and think up different ways to do it." He ignored her frightened scrambling from his bed, and took another drink. "My favorite way, I think, was--"  
  
"Okay, so, I gotta go, and, um... bye!" She ran past him, squealing in fright when he reached out and grabbed her wrist.  
  
Spike rolled his eyes and pulled her back in front of him. She stared at him, her heart beating triple time, making him feel all kinds of good. "I said I wanted to, not can... or even would if I could now."  
  
Her eyebrows rose in disbelief. "You wouldn't kill me? Please, like I'm going to believe that."  
  
He shrugged, not really caring if she believed him or not. "Why are you here, Red?"  
  
She slowly pulled her hand from his, and paced away, trying to cover her nervousness. "Um, I was curious. I came here to ask you a question, but you weren't here. Then, I ran into someone else and he said something that got me thinking." She paused in her pacing and spun around toward him. Her mouth opened to say something, then shut again.  
  
Spike held the bottle out to her, and she took it wordlessly, taking first a sip, then a gulp, then a few more gulps. He lit a cigarette, watching her. It wasn't long before the coughing started. Unable to stop, she sat on the floor, her head between her bent knees, trying to take huge gulps of air into her starved lungs, which of course started her coughing again.  
  
"I think I'm back to wanting to kill you," he said with a chuckle.  
  
"Ha ha," she croaked out, not raising her head. "Next time, warn me. Not that there'll be a next time. 'Cause there won't be." Her voice sounded husky... sexier than ever.  
  
He joined her on the floor, taking the whiskey from her limp hand. "Sure, love." He knew damn well that he would be with her again... no matter what it took. "So... the reason you're here?"  
  
"First tell me why you threatened Tara." She lifted her head and looked straight at him.  
  
Spike's eyebrows dipped down into a thunderous frown. "What?" he asked in disbelief. "I never threatened Stutter Girl. What the hell has she been telling you?"  
  
Willow's frown matched his. "That you told her to get out of Sunnydale or you'd kill her." She looked a little unsure, but gained confidence as she went on. "You've also been following her. I've seen you. Um, that time you knocked me down?"  
  
He jumped to his feet, anger radiating off of him, and showing in his every movement. "I can't believe this crap! Are you and that damn group of yours going to blame me for everything? Running into you was a coincidence, it had nothing to do with Pasty Face."  
  
Willow jumped to her feet, just as angry as he was. "Her name is Tara. And she doesn't lie." She swallowed hard when he got in her face threateningly.  
  
"Are you calling me a liar, pet?" His voice was low and dangerous sounding, causing wonderful waves of fear to pour off of her. "Are you so quick to believe her? You might want to think about that a bit." Planting the seeds of doubt in Willow's mind was easier than he'd thought it would be. All it took was one small statement. And a few lies.  
  
So, the blonde witch had told Willow of his threats, had she? He hadn't thought her brave enough to disregard his warning not to tell anyone. Obviously he'd misjudged her. His eyes narrowed in fury. Damn bitch was going to ruin all his plans.  
  
Willow was blinking at him in confusion, not a bit of understanding on her face. "Why?"  
  
Spike took a drag off his forgotten cigarette, and watched her. "Not my place to say. Ask her." He paced away, acting unconcerned, while inside he was practically jumping for joy. At this rate, Willow would be his within a few weeks.  
  
She shook her head, trying to clear it. "I, uh... oh, I also wanted to know what last night was about. Did you-- why did you try to kiss me?"  
  
"Lot of reasons, pick one." He tossed that out there with all the confidence of an arrogant vampire... something he used to be. Another swig of whiskey helped to build that arrogance.  
  
"Huh?" Was her brilliant reply.  
  
Spike almost laughed at the bewildered expression on her face. "Why do I do anything, pet? To torture the slayer, for fun, or because I want to... choose one."  
  
She stiffened, turning her back on him. "Right. To torture Buffy. Well, from now on, don't. Okay?"  
  
Spike heard the humiliation and--was that hurt?--in her voice, and sought to soothe it. He hadn't meant to hurt her. He thought she'd be happy if he discounted it as a means to hurt Buffy. "It wasn't that one," he said quietly, half hoping she hadn't heard him.  
  
She turned back to him, her green eyes brighter than usual, her breathing slightly shallower than normal. She was studying him curiously, and openly. She was drunk. After the little bit she drank? Lightweight.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
"What?" he ground out. The way she was looking at him, coupled with the way she kept biting her lip, made him want to grab her and kiss her soundly. And more.  
  
Her eyes finally rose back to his, and she asked a question he knew she wouldn't have had the nerve to if she wasn't plastered. "D-- do you... like me?" Even still, she stuttered it out in her charmingly shy manner.  
  
More than anything, Spike answered silently, though I'll be damned if I know why. That answer wouldn't go over real well, he figured, so he played dumb. "What are you talking about?"  
  
She shrugged, giving him a goofy smile. A giggle escaped her as she stumbled over to his bed and hopped up, nearly falling on her ass. She caught herself just in time and sat there swinging her legs. "You accused me of sleeping with him." She frowned and shook her head. "I mean he did. Accused me. She... slept with him... I think." She turned her questioning face to his and waited expectantly.  
  
Spike had no idea what she was talking about. At first, he'd thought she was talking about him and future Willow, but how could she know about that? Unless she ran into future him and he told her... bloody hell.  
  
"Who slept with who, love?" he asked, striding closer to her. He remembered future Willow telling him that she'd been wary of him during this time, but she'd also called him a hottie... so she'd obviously been attracted to him. Hoping to take advantage of that, and her inebriation, he stepped between her legs, resting his hands on either side of her.  
  
She hardly even noticed, she was so busy looking at the ceiling, trying to find answers there. "I slept with him?" she tried, then, "You slept with her." Her face cleared and she smiled at him. "Yeah, that last one."  
  
He grinned in amusement. "Her? Does the poor girl have a name?"  
  
She laughed, her eyes twinkling in merriment. "Of course, otherwise she'd go through life being called, 'Hey you!' which would kinda suck. Like vampires."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes and groaned. "That was bad, pet. Really bad."  
  
Her grin widened. "You don't like my jokes, then bite me."  
  
Spike rested his head on her thighs. "Give it up, please, you're killing me."  
  
"But you're already dead--" Spike's finger on her lips kept her from making another bad joke. She pouted and nipped at his finger.  
  
Spike's eyes lost all traces of amusement. Desire licked through him, like a stray flame from her fire. She was heat and warmth, and Willow. She was everything he wanted at the moment, and yet, he couldn't touch her. Couldn't have her.  
  
Sure you can, his mind cajoled, she's drunk.  
  
She was also attracted to him. It was obvious in the way her heart sped up when he touched her. The way her breath caught when he looked at her. She wanted him. He wanted her. So why the bloody hell wasn't he taking advantage?  
  
Because he didn't want her that way. He wanted her sober and willing. He wanted her to remember.  
  
Even so, when she suddenly looked at him seriously, and lifted a hand to his face, Spike had to fight himself not to grab her and shag her into oblivion. Her thumb traced the scar on his eyebrow, her fingers sliding across his cheek. Her warm touch sent threads of passion through him. He shifted slightly, his hands tightening on her waist.  
  
She pushed her hands through his hair, and leaned down, pressing her lips to his. Giving up, Spike's own hands threaded through her hair and held her still as he slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting, and devouring, moaning as her tongue played with his. His mouth covered hers hungrily, the kiss sending new tendrils of desire through him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should stop this. Step away from her. Move back. Something, anything. But he couldn't bring himself to.  
  
You're cheating on Willow, he thought to himself.  
  
He broke the kiss, pulling away. She was panting, her eyes wide with lust, her face flushed, and he knew he was hurting her by rejecting her, but he also knew he couldn't do this with her. It felt wrong. The timing was off... she wasn't sober, he didn't want to take advantage of her. He told himself all sorts of excuses, too bad he didn't believe any of them. The plain, simple truth, was that he was faithful to the woman he lo-- was with. And that was Willow. Future Willow.  
  
In the meantime, this Willow was pushing him away from her, and jumping off his bed. She stumbled to the door, and out into the night, collapsing on the grass a few feet away.  
  
"Willow--" Spike began, helping her to her feet, but she cut him off.  
  
"Don't. Please? I feel bad enough already."  
  
She refused to look at him, and Spike was sure he'd lost her. Now she would turn into future Willow and hate him even more than before, all because he couldn't keep his hands and mouth to himself. But her next words blew him away.  
  
"I don't know why I did it... I shouldn't have kissed you. I'm sorry." She looked ready to cry.  
  
Spike sighed heavily. He was all ready to toss her an excuse, thereby absolving himself of all guilt, but he just couldn't do it. Damn it. It was easy, just say it. 'You're drunk.' See? Easy to say. Just do it. "It's my fault," he said instead, groaning quietly at his poofish behavior.  
  
Willow smiled thankfully at him, but shook her head. "No, it's not. I kissed you, this time. It's my fault. I've, uh, I've gotta go. Buffy will be worried."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. "Like she can pull herself away from G.I. Blow long enough to care. Hold on, I'll walk you home. Something happens to you I'm sure she'll blame me somehow."  
  
Willow chuckled at his description of Riley and nodded. "Thanks."  
  
Well, he thought, this was a start. Now all he had to do was get her to like him when she wasn't drunk, and then in a year and a half he'd have her. 


	12. What Comes part12

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, 6, or 11.  
  
PART 12  
  
(October 2001)  
  
Spike stood up, confused when William suddenly wasn't there anymore. It didn't take him long to realize he was back in his own time. Hopefully. He took off running, toward his crypt, finding Willow on the ground, the demon, once again in Oz's form, choking her. Her heartbeat was so faint, he could barely hear it.  
  
With a growl, he vamped out and charged the demon, knocking it off Willow. She gasped for breath, and Spike felt relief flood through him just as a fist hit him in the face. Oz, little as he was, wasn't doing too much damage to the much taller vampire.  
The demon snarled and morphed into Buffy. Complete with slayer strength? Spike wondered.  
  
She attacked and Spike gave back as good as he got. He punched her in the face, following up with a swift kick to her chest. Buffy's little body went flying, landing on top of a headstone. She jumped back up with a snarl and flew at him. Spike dodged her fist, but when her leg swung out, sweeping his own out from under him, he went down, hard. The demon straddled him, and a stake suddenly slid out of her sleeve.  
  
"Gosh, Spike. Isn't this how you always imagined it? Fantasized about it?" Buffy asked him.  
  
Spike flipped her over, took the stake out of her hand and positioned it over her heart. "No. This is." He shoved the stake into her chest.  
  
She looked down at her chest. Up at him. One eyebrow went up disdainfully. "Really, Spike. That never works." She morphed into Harmony. "Right, Blondie Bear?"  
  
Spike punched her as hard as he could. Reminding him about Harmony was just plain tasteless.  
  
"What is it with you and stabbing women in the heart? You know, if I were Freud--"  
  
Spike punched her again. "Yeah, well, you're not. So just shut up, and die!"  
  
She shrugged, shoved him off of her and stood up. "Not yet. Until next time. Ta-ta!" she sing-songed, and then was gone.  
  
Spike stared after her for a moment, then went to help Willow. She was sitting in the grass, coughing and rubbing her neck. Spike knelt down to examine the damage, wincing when he saw the chain of bruises lining her throat. Willow had more lives than a Roparch demon and a cat put together. Someone up there loves her, he thought.  
  
She allowed him to help her up, then pushed him slightly away. Her eyes closed and her hands wrapped around her throat. Not thirty seconds later, she opened her eyes and removed her hands. Her neck was almost fully healed, all that was left were faint bruises. She grinned proudly.  
  
Spike scowled and moved away from her. "I told you not to do anymore spells. Christ, woman, are you trying to kill me?" Now that he was back, and they were both safe, he had every intention of following through on his promise to kill Willow. He grabbed her wrist, ignoring her efforts to pull away, and dragged her to her house. The demon knew about his crypt as well as her house, so he figured they may as well be comfortable while staying safe.  
  
"Spike, let go," she whispered. Her voice wasn't quite as healed as the outside of her throat appeared to be. Good, now he didn't have to listen to her denials and lies and protests.  
  
"Not gonna happen, Witch. Do you have any idea what I just went through?" he looked over his shoulder at her. She had the good sense to look guilty.  
  
"You didn't run into yourself, did you?" she whispered, trying so hard not to sound as panicked as she obviously was.  
  
"Yeah. I did. Had a nice long talk about... things. I also had a little run-in with Buffy. And you. Seems I'm being quite the pest. Wouldn't have anything to do with you, now would it?" he tossed at her.  
  
"No," she mumbled. "Not me."  
  
He stopped walking for a second, and stood looking up at the moon, a sigh working its way past his lips. He sure seemed to be doing a lot of sighing lately, he thought absently. A quick glance at her and he saw how close she was to falling asleep on her feet. He swung her into his arms, ignoring her whispered protests, and his own nagging thoughts, and continued to her house.  
  
"I sure hope your parents aren't home, 'cause they're not gonna like me." He looked down at her, but she was asleep already.  
  
He got to her house a few minutes before dawn, waking her up long enough to get her keys from her, then went inside. Her parents weren't home, he was happy to see. The sun started to rise just as he laid her in her bed. She sighed happily, and snuggled under the covers. Spike grabbed a blanket out of a closet in the hall and hung it in front of the French doors.  
  
He pulled her shoes off, but left the rest of her clothes on her, sat down in her wicker chair and settled in for an uncomfortable day of sleep.  
  
  
  
(October 2001)  
  
"Really?" Willow asked, taking a bite of her toast. She filled a mug with coffee and handed it to Spike. It made him slightly nervous to see that her voice and throat were completely healed this morning. Had she done more magick? Maybe he was getting paranoid... nah. Just cautious.  
  
"Yeah, really," he answered, taking the mug, and sitting at the kitchen table. He grinned at her as she took a long drink from her coffee, and sat across from him.  
  
"Oh, this is bad. This is so bad. I mean, one person knowing was risky enough, but two people knowing could be catastrophic."  
  
"Aren't you overreacting a bit?" Spike sat back, trying to work out the kinks that had developed from his chair bed.  
  
"No. No, I'm just enough reacting. Now that we both know... past us, I mean, what's going to happen?" She paused, thinking about the consequences, then suddenly switched topics. "I really knew? I could do that?" She managed to look impressed, envious and wary all at once.  
  
He snorted in amusement. Oh yeah, she was focused. "Yeah. Tara was teaching you. What I want to know is... what changed to make you want to learn? Or, to make her teach you?"  
  
This whole time thing didn't make sense. Things were different, yet nothing had changed. Why? And how had Willow gone back in the first place? And again after that? His trip was a result of Willow's relocation spell gone wrong, he knew, but what about hers? And why had the shape-shifting demon killed Buffy and the others? Why hadn't it killed them? It had certainly had enough opportunities.  
  
All excellent questions. Unfortunately, they were questions he didn't have answers for.  
  
"I don't know," Willow finally answered. "I was wondering the same thing." She finished the last bite of her toast and took a huge gulp of her coffee, looking like she was preparing to go into battle. "So, um... what did you two talk about?" she asked casually, busying herself with cleaning up her crumbs and plate.  
  
"We two who?" he asked, knowing full well who she was talking about. Her shoes squeaked lightly as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, reminding Spike of past Willow's green shoes. He cast a glance down at her feet and saw plain white tennis shoes. Normal shoes. A normal pair of black jeans too. And just a plain ole black T-Shirt. Odd that he hadn't noticed her change in style. Of course, he'd been too busy with Buffy to notice anyone else. He almost missed Willow's eclectic wardrobe.  
  
She finished washing her plate and set it in the drainer, turning around to face him. "You and you. And you and me. You know, this is starting to get really confusing."  
  
"Yeah it is. Call him William. We'll call past you... what?"  
  
She blew a stubborn lock of hair out of her eyes, and shrugged. "I don't know."  
  
"Well, what's your middle name?" he asked reasonably.  
  
She sat across from him again. "Don't have one."  
  
"What? Everybody has a middle name," he told her skeptically.  
  
She shrugged irritably. "Yeah? Well the powers that be didn't see fit to give me one. Or my parents didn't. So, if everybody has one, what's yours, Spike?"  
  
"The. As in William The Bloody."  
  
Willow's snort of laughter rang through the kitchen, making Spike's lips twitch in amusement. "Cute." He grinned impudently. "Very funny." She kicked him lightly under the table. "You think you're a comedian. Key word being 'Think'."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. How about Rose? Short for Rosenberg?"  
  
She considered it for a second then shook her head. "Nah, too... um, what's the word? Oh, yeah. Wrong."  
  
"It's just a temporary name," he told her reasonably. "You got a hang-up about names, don't you?"  
  
"Fine," she said irritably, "let's call her Robin. As in Red Robin. As in back off or I'll call him Vanilla instead of William. Okay... Mr. Bloody?" She grinned cheekily.  
  
"Fine," he grumbled. "What were we talking about anyway, when we got sidetracked? Oh, right. Robin and William."  
  
Willow snickered. "Robin Williams?" Seeing his impatient glare, she shut up. "God, wake up on the wrong side of the chair, did we?"  
  
"No, *we* didn't. *I* did, and I'm sore and hungry and tired and... whining like a wanker, and stopping now." He'd spent quite a bit of that time watching her sleep, though she didn't need to know that. Sleep hadn't come for a while, even after the sun rose, so he'd occupied himself by roaming around her room, then the rest of the house.  
  
He'd found the forgotten blue panties as he wandered back to her room. An urge to wake her up and demand answers had come and gone. He'd leave her alone about it, and hopefully she'd tell him in her own time. If she didn't, then he'd demand answers.  
  
After returning to the uncomfortable chair in the corner, he'd watched her sleep. She tossed and turned a lot before sitting up, throwing the covers off, and undressing. Apparently unaware of his presence. Obviously he hadn't been the only uncomfortable one.  
  
The chair had become even more uncomfortable after that. So much so that he'd considered joining her in her bed. Platonically, of course.  
  
Yeah, right.  
  
"So... spill, blondie. What else happened?" Willow was watching him closely, trying to figure out how much he knew.  
  
"Let's see." He ticked off each item on his fingers. "I ran into Buffy, went to Giles', got accused of stalking you, went to see my worse half, ran into you, found out a few things, and then ran into William, argued a bit, and then I was here again." So there, he thought. She was less than forthcoming about her trips in time, let's see how she likes it.  
  
"Okaaaaaay... so, what'd Buffy have to say? What was it like seeing her again? Was she okay? Of course, she was okay, stupid question. Stalking me? What?" This last part seemed to have just registered in her mind.  
  
He scowled, remembering William's threats toward Tara and his less than cavalier attitude toward Willow. "Seems William's become obsessed with you. I'm pretty sure that telling William about Buffy was a bad idea. I think he's decided to replace her with you."  
  
"Oh. That could be bad, like, catastrophic bad. You were tortured by Glory. You saved Buffy, and... and Dawn, and the whole world in a way. What have I done? Wait, what? Me? No, see... there's no problem. Why would he want me? No reason, problem solved." She grinned happily.  
  
He stretched back in his chair, watching her. She thought she was being all secretive and clever. Had she no idea what a terrible liar she was?  
  
She cleared her throat nervously, obviously not liking the way he was staring at her. Her fingers played along the edge of the table. "You know, I didn't mean for anything like this to happen. I really didn't. I don't even know how I went back. Do you think the shapeshifter sent me back?"  
  
He shrugged. "Who knows?"  
  
She looked past him for a second, before letting her eyes settle on him again. "Um, so what did William have to say? About stuff?"  
  
Spike almost choked on a mouthful of coffee. Subtlety was definitely not her strong suit. "Your secret is still safe, pet. He didn't tell me anything. Even when I flat out asked him."  
  
She smiled in relief, but tried to cover it in confusion. "What secret? I don't have a secret, there's no secret, Spike. Anyone ever tell you you're paranoid?"  
  
"I know you slept with him." He dropped that bombshell hoping to shock the truth out of her. And from the sudden paleness of her face, it looked like it was working.  
  
"Slept with? With you? With Spike? With William? No. No, no I didn't sleep with anyone. Well, yes, I did, but we slept. Sleep was had. Not sex. There was no sex. Not with us." She was looking everywhere but at him, and he had his answer.  
  
Willow had had sex with William. With him. He wasn't sure how it made him feel to know that Willow desired him enough to sleep with him. She'd wanted him.  
  
But then again, his rational mind insisted, it was probably out of grief and desperation. Not out of any real feelings she had for him. He was a vampire, after all. And she had a girlfriend that she loved.  
  
And now that he thought about it, her hesitation in telling him was most likely a result of embarrassment, and shame. She regretted it.  
  
"And the bitemark?" he asked, hiding his sudden anger.  
  
She looked panicked for a second, then her face cleared and she let out a little laugh. "Oh, that. Funny story really. Um, see, when you were drunk... I told you about that, right?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
"Yeah, um, see, you fell, and you hit your head... on a tombstone. There was blood everywhere, lots and lots of it. Everywhere. And you were passed out. Drunk. You needed to feed, so I let you drink from me. 'Cause... on account of the blood loss," she finished pitifully.  
  
Spike kept silent, dragging out her misery for a full minute. "Thanks." There wasn't even a trace of amusement or disbelief in his voice.  
  
She looked up, obviously surprised at his easy acceptance of her explanation. "You're welcome?"  
  
He got up and refilled both of their mugs with coffee. They sat in silence, each one lost in their own thoughts.  
  
  
  
(October 2001)  
  
Spike shut off the TV and headed upstairs to Willow's room. She'd gone to bed a few hours before, leaving him to late night TV watching. He hadn't actually seen anything on the screen, he was too lost in thought to pay any attention to the actors or storylines, but he'd kept it on for noise.  
  
He didn't like silence, didn't like being alone. That was what had his thoughts so occupied. He was alone again. The woman he loved was dead.  
  
Willow, for reasons known only to her, had slept with William. And Willow was basically alone.  
  
She had Tara, of course, but she'd slept with *him*, while still in a relationship with Tara.  
  
He pushed Willow's bedroom door open, and stood there watching her. She was so beautiful. Her red hair spread out on her pillow was one of the most erotic things he'd ever seen.  
  
Lust and desire surged through him. He wanted her. Wanted to hold her, touch her. He moved further into the room, shutting the door behind him and toeing off his boots. The wicker chair wasn't very inviting looking. No, but that bed was. With her in it, anyway. He sat down in the chair, watching her and considering his options.  
  
One; he could sleep in the chair and wake up stiff and uncomfortable. Two; he could sleep on the couch, or her parents bed, and run the chance of her parents coming home. Or three; he could slip into bed with Willow and wake up refreshed with someone next to him.  
  
He hated being alone. He was tired of being alone.  
  
He stood up, divesting himself of his clothes, and climbed into bed beside Willow. Pulling back the blanket, he admired her perfect body. There was a small round scar on her right shoulder from the crossbow bolt, and what looked like a faded bite mark on her left breast, but was probably something else. Had better be something else. None of the scars detracted from her beauty, however, she was still perfect. Curved in all the right places. The girl had one hell of a body, he thought with a grin.  
  
She stirred slightly at the loss of her covers, so he laid back and covered them both up. Almost immediately, she curled into him, wrapping an arm around him and laying her head on his chest. Spike was suddenly wondering how he was supposed to get any sleep.  
  
  
  
(October 2001)  
  
"Spike?"  
  
Spike jerked awake as the girl curled around him called his name. He'd been in the middle of a good dream when her voice penetrated his sleeping mind. Damn it. He'd been dreaming about Past Willow and Future Willow fighting over him. At least I'm wanted in my dreams, he thought dryly. "What? I'm trying to sleep."  
  
"And therein lies the problem. I was quite happy being asleep until I rolled over and found a cold, dead guy in my bed. Why are you in my bed?"  
  
He groaned silently. He wasn't about to tell Willow that his feelings for her were more than friendly these days. That he'd been steadily moving away from his feelings for Buffy and toward her. He lusted after her. Desired her. Cared for her.  
  
Am I really that fickle? he thought. As soon as one love left, he went out and found another one? No, he didn't think so. There was just something about Willow that drew him to her. He hadn't noticed it until now, when there was no one left to distract him. That sounded horrible, but really wasn't. Willow was just one of those people that didn't command attention. Like Buffy did. Or Dru.  
  
The object of his thoughts sighed lightly, her warm breath fanning across his cheek. "Spike... hello?" She shook him roughly.  
  
"What?" he growled, opening his eyes to glare at her.  
  
"Why are you sleeping in my bed, Goldilocks?"  
  
Spike rolled away from her and settled back in to sleep. "My back and neck refuse to be subjected to that bloody chair again, and I doubt very much that your parents would appreciate finding a dead guy in their bed, or on their couch, should they come home." He draped an arm over his eyes, effectively stopping the conversation.  
  
He could just imagine how much eye rolling Willow was doing at the moment, as she slipped out of bed. He was disappointed that she was leaving him alone, but not overly so. She was probably just putting on more clothes or something. He grinned, lifting his arm surreptitiously to watch her. Damn. She slipped a robe on and headed out the door.  
  
"Hey, where are you going?"  
  
She didn't even spare him a glance. "My parents' room."  
  
Spike sat up, the blanket falling to his lap. He'd enjoyed sleeping next to Willow. Enjoyed the feel of her small warm body against his. "Um, pet, won't they wonder why you're in there instead of in here? What if they see me in here?" He smirked and stretched lazily when she turned around. "In all my naked glory."  
  
She shrugged, unconcerned, and unaffected by his display. "Won't happen. They don't come in here, and even if they did, they'd probably think you were me."  
  
Spike looked at her skeptically. "Real observant people, are they?"  
  
"They're who they are. Good night." She started to leave the room, but stopped and waggled her finger at him. "Stay." And then she was gone, shutting the door tightly behind her.  
  
Spike waited a total of ten minutes before crawling into bed with her in her parent's room. He fell asleep almost immediately.  
  
  
  
(October 2001)  
  
Willow woke up with a feeling of contentment. She felt safe. At home. Not home, as in a place, but home, as in a feeling of rightness.  
  
Spike, she thought.  
  
Tara, her mind tossed back.  
  
Her dream from last night came back to her and she flushed. William had shown up in Sunnydale and snuck into her bed while she slept, then made love to her. She closed her eyes and stretched, grinning from ear to ear. Spike was as good a dream lover as he was a real lover.  
  
And then a thought struck her. It had been a dream, hadn't it?  
  
Her eyes flew open, greeted with a thankfully empty bed. Her parent's bed. Um, okay. She was in her parent's room, at her house. Oh yeah, Spike had crawled into bed with her, he just hadn't made love to her.  
  
And that wasn't disappointment she felt.  
  
So she had come in here, to get away from a naked Spike in her bed. She'd slept alone after that. And now she was alone in the house. Not alone, she thought, hearing someone moving around downstairs.  
  
It was Spike. She didn't know how she knew, but she did. And why was she so happy about Spike being there? God, what had she been thinking?  
  
About Spike. Naked Spike.  
  
Oh, boy. She was even cheating on Tara in her dreams. It was pretty obvious to her now. She had feelings for Spike. Big time love-ish type feelings. Gushy feelings, she thought with a groan. Why was she never satisfied with the person she was with? She loved Tara, didn't she? The answer was immediate. Yes. Absolutely loved her. But she wasn't sure if she was in love with her anymore.  
  
And Spike? What was it that she felt for him? Love? Yes. In love? Maybe.  
  
Crap.  
  
She threw the covers back, grabbed some clean clothes and jumped into the shower, vowing never to dream about Spike and sex again.  
  
If only it were that easy. 


	13. What Comes part13

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, 6, or 11.  
  
PART 13  
  
(October 2001)  
  
Spike watched Willow pace the small area, sighing for the tenth time in an hour. "Will you stop that?" he griped. "It's not helping."  
  
She tossed him a glare and slumped against the sewer wall, oblivious of the gunk and goop that was now on her clothes.   
  
"Where is it? You're sure this was the spot?" She gestured around them at the sewer juncture they were standing in.  
  
"Positive," he answered from his spot by the north sewer. "I was standing just over there," he pointed directly across from himself. "She was there," he pointed to the center of the juncture. "And she seemed to be praying to something right about where you're standing."  
  
Willow pushed away from the wall, turning to look at it suspiciously. "Okay, so I'm an evil shapeshifter... who do I pray to?"  
  
He lifted his eyes from his perusal of the generous amount of leg showing from underneath her skirt, and shook his head. "Got me. As far as I know, they work alone."  
  
"Well," she said exasperatedly. "What did she say? Anything that might help here, Spike. I want to get this thing. I want to kill her." She carelessly knelt in front of the wall she'd just vacated, examining it closely.  
  
He pushed away from the sewer tunnel entrance, and grabbed her arm, pulling her up beside him. "We've been here an hour. I don't think she's coming back. Probably hasn't been back here since I found her."  
  
Willow yanked her arm away from him. "I'm staying. This is the only lead we have."  
  
Lighting a cigarette to cover his irritation with her sudden need to find the demon, he paced away from her. "We've also got a whole shop full of books, a library, and a computer. We can look things up. Do research. That kind of crap."  
  
"To hell with research," she yelled angrily. "This thing--this demon--killed everyone I know. Everyone I cared about. So don't tell me about taking my time and waiting, and looking things up... I want results. Now!" She kicked the wall in fury, not even wincing at the blow.  
  
Spike watched her carefully. Something was definitely wrong. This afternoon, when she finally came downstairs, she seemed fine. A little uncomfortable at facing someone she'd slept with earlier... only slept with, unfortunately, nothing more. But as the day wore on, she grew anxious and frustrated with their lack of information regarding the shapeshifter. She snapped at him at every turn, insulted him. And once, she'd even hit him.  
  
Well, pushed him out of her way, actually. And she'd apologized immediately afterwards, but the fact that she'd done it at all, was in itself unusual. Willow didn't do violence. Except on demons... demons who weren't Spike or Angel. Later, after she ate dinner, she accidentally knocked over her glass of water, spilling a small amount of liquid on the floor and table, but something inside her snapped, and she sent the glass and plate crashing to the floor where they shattered.  
  
He watched her bend down to clean the mess up, and was surprised to hear her laughing. Figuring it was her way of dealing with the loss of her friends, he left her alone, but since then, she'd done nothing but yell and shout, and laugh. Everything but cry.  
  
And that's when he remembered the spell she'd done on herself after coming home from the hospital. "Willow, we're leaving." Without waiting for an answer from her, he grabbed her arm and pulled her with him down the tunnel. She tried to get free, but he held on, despite the twinge of pain in his head warning him not to hurt her.  
  
"No, we're not. You're free to go if you want, but I'm staying, now let go." She yanked hard, and dug her heels into the slimy ground. Her tennis shoes slipped, and she had to stop her tirade to catch herself.  
  
"There's something wrong with you, damn it. She's not coming back here, so let's just get-- ow! Bloody hell, what was that for?" She'd actually bitten him. The witch had bitten him. After examining the fleshy part of his hand between thumb and forefinger, he sucked on the minuscule amount of blood that trickled out.  
  
She straightened up, glaring at him, her breath coming out in pants. "I told you I'm not leaving, demon."  
  
"Demon?" he repeated incredulously. "That's it, I am--"  
  
"Not the boss of me," she ground out, backing away from him, trailing her hand along the wall. "So, unless you want me to do one of my extra special spells on you, I suggest you keep your hands off of me. Got it?"  
  
He followed her, not about to let her go off on her own, or leave her here alone. But how was he supposed to get her up to the surface to figure out what was wrong with her if he couldn't hurt her? He was pretty sure after that last attempt that she wouldn't go willingly, so force was in order. Too bad he couldn't use force. Appeal to her common sense?  
  
"Willow," he said softly, taking another step toward her and holding his hand out to show her how harmless he was, "something's wrong. You've got to know that. This isn't you."  
  
She nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, it's a thing we humans call emotions, something you'd know nothing about." Her eyes pinned him in place, daring him to take another step. He did. She raised her hands, chanting loudly, her voice echoing off the walls.  
  
Seizing his chance, Spike darted forward and punched her in the jaw. Her eyes went wide as she sagged toward the ground. He wanted to catch her, but he wasn't faring much better. Pain ripped through his skull, burning white hot behind his eyes. He sank to the ground, barely wincing at the squishy whatever he landed in, and cradled his aching head in his hands.  
  
"She better appreciate this," he muttered harshly.  
  
He took a few deep breaths before forcing himself to his feet and leaning against the wall. Pain was still shooting idly through his brain, as if it had all the time in the world. Sighing heavily, knowing it wouldn't get any better until he had blood, he bent and picked her up, hefting her in his arms with another sigh. The things he did for her.  
  
"She *damn* well better appreciate this," he repeated.  
  
Trundling through the slime and the sludge with an unconscious body in his arms wasn't the easiest thing to do, but he made it. Staring up at the manhole he had to get her up to and through, he groaned. Maybe it'd be better if he woke her up, even with the way she'd been acting. It'd certainly be easier on his back and arms. But, even if he wanted to risk her wrath again, she probably wouldn't wake up anyway, he'd hit her fairly hard.  
  
Tossing her over his shoulder--gently--he pulled himself slowly up the metal ladder, and climbed out of the suddenly smaller-than-it-was-before manhole. And they were back outside by the old high school. Setting her down on the wet grass, he sat beside her, and took a deep breath, tossing her a scowl. She didn't look it, but she was heavy.  
  
Her house was closest, so he decided to take her there and search through the spell books. The answer had to be there somewhere. And damn her for doing the spell in the first place. Picking her up again, he started for her house. The going was easier this time with no slime to watch out for, no slipping feet. He made it within minutes, laying her on the couch while he went upstairs for the aspirin bottle. A trip to the kitchen for a glass of water, and a bag of frozen peas later, and he was sitting beside her, tapping her face gently.  
  
Thirty minutes later, he looked up from one of her spell books to see if she was awake yet. She was still passed out on the couch, in the same position he'd set her down in. No matter what he did those first few minutes, she wouldn't wake up, so he'd left her to sleep it off. Either he'd hit her harder than he thought, or this was another side effect of the spell... or of her out of control emotions. Whatever it was, he wasn't too worried. Her heartbeat was strong, and her breathing was even. She'd snap out of it eventually.  
  
Another ten minutes passed before he finally found the spell she'd used. An Emotion Control spell. Well, duh. All right, now all he had to do was figure out how to reverse it. After a century with Dru, he should've learned a few things about spells.  
  
Should've.  
  
It took him another hour, and some quality time with her computer to figure out how to do it. And of course it was a simple thing. Just light a few candles and chant the right words, and voila, she was cured.  
  
  
  
(October 2001)  
  
Willow woke up with a raging headache, and a sore jaw. Her knees were kind of aching too. She hadn't a clue as to what had happened to make her feel this way, but she was pretty sure Spike was involved somehow. He usually was. A rank smell made its way to her nose, and she quickly sat up, trying to escape it. Her eyes focused on her living room wall, and Spike asleep in the chair across from her.  
  
Books of all shapes and sizes littered the floor and table top. Apparently he'd been researching something. Or they had? She couldn't remember. And that smell was permeating her senses again. Yuck.  
  
Swinging her legs to the floor, she sat forward, resting her head in her hands. Pain shot through her jaw as soon as she touched it, causing her to shout, rather loudly, in surprise.  
  
Spike's eyes opened, focusing on her with a sour look. "You're not going to bite me again, are you?"  
  
Her eyebrows rose skyward. "Me, bite you? Hello, you're the vampire of the group. And it's me who's in pain and probably bruised," she told him, gently probing her teeth with her tongue. Everything felt all right. No missing teeth, or blood.  
  
"Yeah, well, you're welcome." He sat up, giving her yet another belligerent look. "And next time you do a spell to control your emotions, don't."  
  
"What?" Her confusion was real, but she was mostly concerned with where the smell was coming from. Looking down at her clothes, she realized it was her. "Ew." Seeing a particularly nasty spot of brown on her right knee, she stuck her tongue out in disgust. "I am so going to take a shower now. Fill me in later."  
  
Spike sighed as she darted up the stairs trying to keep from gagging.  
  
Freshly showered, and feeling like a million--scratch that--feeling like a half a million bucks, Willow went into her room. And look, there was Spike. What was he doing in her room? Thankfully, she was already dressed, and completely covered, otherwise, there'd be an awkward thing happening here. She'd had time to think about it, and was pretty sure he had no idea what he was talking about. The spell hadn't gone wrong. Right? And if it had, which it hadn't, she'd know about it. Wouldn't she? Of course, she would. But nothing had happened that she knew of.  
  
"Okay, dude, spill it," she told the overly handsome vampire on her bed. And he was on her bed why? She sat on her desk chair, combing her hair and waiting for his explanation.  
  
"First of all, never call me that again. Second of all, you don't remember your little emotional breakdown?" He leaned back against the wall, stretching out. Looking mighty comfortable on *her* bed.  
  
"Sort of," she said with a frown, "I mean, I had this dream that I yelled at you. A lot. And bit you?" She sighed in frustration. "That wasn't a dream, was it?" Setting the brush on her desk, she pointed to her jaw. "What's this? A bonus from you? Everything since this morning is kind of blurry... like a dream, or something. I really don't remember anything concrete since... uh," she massaged her forehead, trying to think back. "Oh, hey! You snuck into my bed last night."  
  
He waved his hand dismissively. "That was almost twenty-four hours ago, pet." He snorted and chuckled. "A push and a bite ago. Not to mention the screams and insults."  
  
"Twenty-four hours?" That couldn't be right. She'd lost a day? How? The spell. It had to be that stupid spell. "Did it break down? The spell, I mean." But, wait. "Insults? What'd I call you?" she asked in dread. Hopefully nothing too terribly bad.  
  
He laughed heartily, swinging his legs to the floor. "Demon. It was terrible." He sniffed, wiping at his dry eyes. "I'm, like, so hurt."  
  
"First of all," she said in imitation of his earlier words, "never do Valley Girl talk again. Second of all, sorry. I mean, well, you know. For being insulting, and biting you. It was rude of me," she said primly.  
  
"Rude, right. That's what it was." He laid back with a yawn, running his hands through his hair tiredly. "So, everything all under control now? No more outbursts on the way?"  
  
She shrugged. "Pretty much don't know. Tell me what happened. Please?" She hated the feeling that she might have lost control. She was all about control. Being in charge wasn't a huge part of who she was, but being in control was. So, to have lost that was galling. It totally sucked.  
  
He told her what happened, filling in the last twenty-four hours' worth of yelling, bitching, and evil-doing on her part. It sounded familiar, like she'd dreamed it, but it still didn't feel real.  
  
"God, I am such a bitch," she joked, feeling anything but lighthearted. "A regular Cordelia." Hearing the self-pity in her voice, she rolled her eyes. "And, apparently, quite the sad sack."  
  
"Well," Spike said, stretching out, "you've earned it. And I won't even say I told you so." He closed his eyes and rolled over. "How about some sleep now?"  
  
"Fine," Willow said. "Sleep. Enjoy. I'm going to go eat something." She closed the door on Spike, who was waving her away with a yawn, and went downstairs to eat. She felt like she hadn't eaten in a week. Pizza sounded good... or, a sandwich, ooo, ice cream sandwiches.  
  
  
  
Spike woke up hours later, feeling rather bereft of Willow's company, and left her room for her parents'. He was hoping she'd be in there, preferably naked, but he'd be satisfied with just finding her. Pushing the door open, he spotted her red hair immediately, even among the multitude of blankets and sheets. As he had before, he shut the door, and joined her in bed, sighing in contentment when she turned into him, and pressed her lips to his chest. He sucked in a breath when her lips pressed to his collar bone, and her hand slid down to rest on his hip. She was a little seductress in her sleep.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
Spike froze, preparing for the freak out that was sure to come. She was awake, and in just a second she'd yell at him for climbing into bed with her again. He looked down at her, expecting to see anger, or fear, but neither were present. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth, and she traced soft circles on his stomach.  
  
He leaned down and whispered, "Yeah, love?"  
  
"I missed you."  
  
He knew exactly what she meant by that, and as he started to wake her up more fully, he thought to himself... why not get comfort from someone he cared about? Someone he had feelings for, and who apparently had some kind of feelings for him. Instead of doing what he knew was right, he took her hand in his and kissed the palm, letting his other hand come up to cradle her cheek. "I missed you too," he said softly, his eyes caressing her sleepy face.  
  
Dropping the hand from her cheek, he settled it on her stomach, tracing circles like she was doing on him. The muscles under his hand tensed as she pushed herself up, and kissed him. He ran his hands along her body, intent on finding out what she felt like without clothes on. She deepened the kiss as his hands slowly moved from her abdomen to her breasts. She arched into his touch, moaning, and he hardened in response to the purely feminine sound.  
  
He knew, even as he kissed her, that he shouldn't be letting this happen. He wanted her, and she had slept with William, but... did she feel anything more than friendship for him? As she caressed him, he threw caution to the wind, and said to hell with all that.  
  
He would have Willow.  
  
He wanted to take his time with her since she seemed to want him as much as he wanted her, but she wasn't making it easy. Her hands were all over him, on his chest, his face, his neck. When she lifted herself on top of him, he broke the kiss and rolled them over, so he was on top. He wanted her now. Needed to be inside of her. It had been too long since he'd had a woman.  
  
He caressed her breasts, hefting the weight in his hands and playing with the nipples with his thumbs. Her eyes burned with desire and her breathing was harsh and shallow. He leaned down and kissed her softly. Her mouth opened under his, and he slanted his mouth over hers with a fierceness that spoke of his need. She returned the kiss with equal fervor.  
  
He moaned when her hand slid lower, her small fingers wrapping around his shaft. He sucked in an unneeded breath and broke the kiss, leaning down to suck gently on her nipple. Her back arched up, and her eyes closed.  
  
She slid her hand along his length a few times, making him shudder with need. He stilled her hand, pulling it away from him, and kissing her palm. She opened her eyes again and smiled, reaching up and pulling his mouth to hers.  
  
Her hips lifted up off the bed when he slid a finger inside of her. She was ready for him. Wasting no more time, he positioned himself between her thighs and slid inside of her.  
  
Their gasps of pleasure mirrored each other as he sank all the way in. He had to hold still for a few breathless seconds, while she adjusted to him. When she began to move against him, he pulled out almost completely, then thrust back in again. She held him to her, caressing his back, and wrapping her legs around him. He kissed her deeply, fighting the urge to bite her. Taste her. Drain her dry. A low growl escaped him at this last thought. His face changed, his fangs elongated, and he wasn't able to stop himself.  
  
He bit into her neck as he thrust inside of her again and again. She whimpered, and he wasn't sure if it was in pain or pleasure. At this point, he was hard pressed to care. He had a warm body underneath him, he was thrusting inside of her, and drinking her blood.  
  
He was in ecstasy. Heaven hadn't a thing on vampires.  
  
As he continued to drink from her, she tightened around him. Pushed over the edge, Spike followed her into orgasm, growling into her neck.  
  
And still he drank.  
  
  
  
(October 2001)  
  
Spike was at the kitchen table drinking a tasteless mug of pig's blood from Willy's the next night, when an angry and frightened scream echoed throughout the house. He went running up the stairs, taking them two at a time, following her heartbeat into the bathroom. His hand was on the doorknob when the door flew open, and Willow came out, running into him. Her wet hair was combed carelessly back, away from her face. She had on a pair of black shorts, and a small black tank top. She looked beautiful.  
  
And then he saw her eyes. They were black as well.  
  
Uh-oh. Magick.  
  
She was staring at him in that way that screamed, 'I'm going to turn you into something gross and disgusting.' Her voice, when she spoke, was low and unnerving.  
  
"Did you bite me?" she asked, gesturing to the bite mark left behind by their lovemaking.  
  
Okay, there were a few responses here. One, lie. Two, run. Three, act cocky. As usual, cocky won out.  
  
He leaned back against the wall, crossed his arms, looked her up and down, and shrugged. "Yeah."  
  
Her eyes narrowed at him, and the blackness started to swirl around in a really neat way. But when she started to speak in Latin, he dropped his nonchalant pose and slapped his hand over her mouth. "Oh, no you don't." He grabbed her hand and dragged her into her bedroom. The small, narrow hallway made fighting, if it came to that, a bit hard. He let go of her mouth and flung her away from him. "No. Magick. Around. Me. It's English, it's a pretty simple concept, so how many times do I have to tell you? I've had enough of your magick to last a lifetime."  
  
She turned her eyes on him, and he was glad to see they were back to normal. "Why did you bite me? And what else did you do to me?" she asked him, her tone telling him what she meant by 'what else'.  
  
So, what, she didn't remember what had happened between them? Or maybe she thought it was just a dream again... or William.  
  
He grabbed a pack of cigarettes out of his jeans and lit one. He'd actually been afraid this might happen after her little memory problem the night before. Seemed to be a side effect of the spell. Since she'd been asleep a little over twelve hours because of the amount of blood he'd taken, he'd had plenty of time to come up with a plausible excuse.  
  
And, the phrase, tit for tat, came to mind. She wanted to be hush-hush about what happened between her and William, then fine. He'd give her something to wonder about.  
  
"Came up here to check on you after you went to bed. You were having a nightmare or something, and when I tried to wake you up, you pulled me down on the bed, and told me to feed off of you. You were rather insistent too, so I obliged. Figured, what's a little blood between friends?" Seeing her skeptical look, he raised an eyebrow at her. This would teach her to lie to him. "Guess you were dreaming about William," he said softly, mockingly. "You didn't tell me you had to force him to do it."  
  
She flushed, and her eyes went wide. He could see the struggle in those eyes. She wanted to tell him the truth, that she'd never forced William to feed off of her, that it had been during sex, and therefore he must be lying. Yet, on the other hand, if she told him that, she'd have to admit to sleeping with William, and lying to Spike. She just couldn't do it.   
  
"So, why?" he repeated, "Because you wanted me to."  
  
She opened her mouth to say something, then snapped it shut again. She nodded curtly, and turned away from him.  
  
Spike watched her ignore him for a few seconds, then turned and left the room, and then the house.  
  
He'd screwed up. No matter what he told her, she wouldn't be happy with him. So, he was caught as much as her over telling her the truth. Damned if he did, and damned if he didn't.  
  
Damn it.  
  
  
  
(October 2001)  
  
In a dormitory on the UC Sunnydale campus, a young blonde girl lay sleeping on her bed, books and papers spread around her. Her cat, commonly known as Miss Kitty Fantastico padded silently over to the window and jumped up on the sill. She stood up on her hind legs, and stretched tall. Seconds later, the beloved cat evaporated into mist and floated through the partially open window to the ground.  
  
The real Miss Kitty Fantastico cautiously emerged from under the bed, her ears flattened down, and hissing at the now empty window sill. She jumped up on the bed, watching the last spot she'd seen the fake cat in, and belatedly guarded her mistress.  
  
The mist traveled low to the ground, disturbing fallen leaves and blades of grass as it moved off campus. Moved with a purpose. As soon as it was clear of prying eyes and stray glances, the mist swirled into a human form and took shape. People walking down the street that night may very well have wondered why Arnold Schwarzenegger was in Sunnydale, and furthermore, why he answered to the name, 'Merle'.  
  
He strode purposely down the street, toward the center of town. Knowing where he was going, he made turn after turn without needing to look at street signs. He stopped in front of the closed Espresso Pump, waving his hand in front of him. The air shimmered and brightened with a light that wasn't there. The strip of shimmering air lengthened and widened until Merle was able to step through it. As soon as he did, the air returned to normal, and the light disappeared.  
  
  
  
(April 2000)  
  
"Merle?" a voice questioned. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Merle turned around with a grin. "Gene! It's been a while man, where you been?" He turned to the Djin in front of him. The Djin who looked exactly like Barbra Streisand at the moment. "Take that face off," Merle laughed, rolling his eyes. "She's creepy as all get-out."  
  
The Djin pouted slightly, then dropped the glamour, allowing his true form to show; that of a blue-skinned demon with gold sigils. His perfectly creased black slacks and crisp white shirt was in complete agreement with his upper crust French accent. "Better?" he asked.  
  
Merle shrugged. "Anything but that woman is fine."  
  
Gene laughed heartily, his eyes dancing with merriment. "Issues?"  
  
Merle shook his head, slapping his old friend on the back. "What are you doing here? Got a victim in town?"  
  
Gene shrugged dramatically. "I am here on my own. I thought it was time for a vacation, and this charming little town is purported to be an excellent getaway for demons."  
  
"Oh, so it's all play and no work for you for a while, huh? I envy you, man. Myself, I'm on assignment here." Hearing a noise in a nearby alley, he turned to peer into it, but saw only darkness. "Yeah, they've got me doing the old nine to five. Well actually it's more like twenty-four seven," he laughed, "but, hey, who am I to complain? Vampires, witches... this job has everything."  
  
Gene sniffed importantly, looking way too arrogant for his own good. "I have heard rumors of a great power gathering here. There's a search out for demons for hire. Are these the same people you're working for?"  
  
Merle frowned, wondering if the Bosses had put out word for more demons. Why? He was doing a good enough job on his own. Hadn't he killed them all? He sure as hell had. And all on his own too. So where did they get off hiring more demons? Damn traitors. Disgruntled at being left out of the loop, he shook his head, not offering up any information. "So where you been? Last I saw you was back in eighteen seventy-one. Just after that little bumbling incident with Mrs. O'Leary." He laughed heartily in remembrance. Those had been fun times.  
  
Gene's smile turned into a frown, and his narrowed at Merle. "I do not bumble."  
  
"Okay, okay. Not usually, but you sure did that time, even you have to admit that." He tossed an amused grin at Gene, and waited for him to acknowledge the truth in his words.  
  
After a minute, Gene nodded and laughed with him. "This is true."  
  
Merle shook his head, wishing times were as simple as they used to be. "What was it you were supposed to do exactly? Keep her from being robbed and murdered?"  
  
"And I did just that," Gene told him, still chuckling. "She was neither robbed, nor murdered."  
  
Merle's snort of laughter had Gene grinning. "That's true. Good thing you'd disguised yourself as a... now what was it? A cow?" he asked, his voice unsure, though they both knew he knew what he was talking about. "You protected her very well."  
  
Gene shrugged, looking all frustrated and annoyed, though in truth he was having as much fun reminiscing as Merle was. "Well what was I supposed to do? I was forbidden to take the form of a human or demon. I chose what I thought would be best."  
  
"And a cow was a wonderful choice," Merle agreed. "You couldn't have been expected to take the form of a dog, or cat, something that could warn her and roam free, no, a cow was best. That way, you could knock over a lantern to get her attention when you saw the killers coming."  
  
Gene closed his eyes and sighed, still smiling. "I made a mistake on that part, I admit, but the rest of my decisions were beyond reproach."  
  
Merle sniggered, changing into the form of a burn victim. "Yes, starting the Chicago Fire was beyond reproach. Good work, Gene." Shaking his head, he morphed back into his favorite human form.  
  
Gene nodded eagerly. "I'd still be working for the Powers of Good, had I not started that fire. I'm happier where I'm at now. No more middle management for me. I'm a, how do you say? Player?"  
  
"Yeah," Merle snorted, "you're a player. So what've you been doing with yourself since then?"  
  
Gene shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "Mostly little things. At my own convenience, of course, not at the beck and call of the Powers anymore."  
  
Merle sucked his teeth, nodding attentively. No longer ticked off, and feeling quite generous, he decided maybe it wouldn't be so bad working with Gene again. "I've got something going on here. Maybe I could put in a good word for you. See if they're looking for new help." Seeing Gene's narrowed eyes, he added, "If you want to. I mean, you're on your own now, and doing your own thing. But if you want some work, I can ask around."  
  
"Sure," Gene told him. "If I'm not busy, and if my particular skills are needed." He looked at the expensive watch on his left wrist and sighed. "I have to be off, I'm meeting a few friends for drinks at a place called Willy's."  
  
"All right," Merle agreed, "I've gotta be going too. See you around." They parted ways, Gene walking in the direction of Willy's, Merle heading toward a nearby cemetery. Got a vampire to see, he thought to himself.  
  
  
  
(April 2000)  
  
Willow and Tara stared at the disappearing demons, then looked at each other. "W-- we should go--"  
  
"Tell Giles and Buffy," Willow finished, grabbing Tara's hand and pulling her with her down the alley. "Absolutely."  
  
They ran the whole way, not stopping to discuss what they'd just witnessed, there was plenty of time to do so at Giles' place. Besides, why go through it twice when once would suffice? Ten minutes later, they charged through the ex Watcher's door, breathing heavily.  
  
"Demons," Willow panted, bent over at the waist with her hands on her knees. "Two of them. Shapeshifters."  
  
Tara, half leaning against the door frame, and half leaning against Willow, nodded at the confused older man. "In league with vampires."  
  
Giles, in the middle of walking across the room with a cup of tea in one hand, and a book in the other, stopped to stare at the exhausted girls. "Um, who is in league with vampires?" he queried, at a loss.  
  
"Arnold Schwarzenegger," Willow answered, standing straighter now that she'd gotten most of her breath back.  
  
"And Barbra Streisand," Tara added with a giggle.  
  
"Oh." Giles nodded, took a few steps toward the couch, then stopped. "I'm sorry, what?"  
  
Willow laughed with Tara at the lost look on Giles' face. "We saw them by the Espresso Pump. Shapeshifters we think, since one of them sort of did this cool morphing thing."  
  
"It *was* neat," Tara agreed, smiling at Willow, then frowning, "ex-- except what it turned into. That was gross."  
  
"Very gross." Willow sat on the arm of the couch, facing Giles. "They were talking about the Chicago fire... from what I heard, I think one of them turned into a cow and knocked over a lantern, starting the fire."  
  
Giles' eyebrows rose comically high. "The Chicago fire of eighteen seventy-one? But that happened in eighteen seventy-one."  
  
"Duh." Willow chuckled, ignoring Giles' embarrassed look. "They were talking about vampires and witches... and something else. We couldn't hear everything they said 'cause they were talking kind of low. So we only caught parts of the conversation."  
  
"Something about a job one of them was doing," Tara added, joining Willow by the couch.  
  
"Right," Willow agreed, "and I think one of them--the one we couldn't see--was looking for work?" she asked, looking for confirmation from Tara, who shrugged apologetically. Willow shook her head in amazement. "Wow, these things must live a long time to have been around in eighteen seventy-one. Maybe they're immortal, like vampires."  
  
Giles set his cup down and went over to the bookshelf by the door. "It's possible, and definitely intriguing," he told them, searching through his books. "However, I don't think this is an emergency. I appreciate the information, and will look into it thoroughly, however, right now all our attention needs to be focused on Adam, and his activities."  
  
Willow nodded, watching him pull books from their shelves. "Right. So... we'll just go then. Um, you know," she shared a smile with Tara, and got to her feet, "elsewhere. The Bronze. Gonna meet Buffy there... so..."  
  
Giles smiled and looked up briefly. "All right. I'll see you later then."  
  
Tara gave Willow one of her disapproving looks once they were outside. "You shouldn't lie to Mr. Giles."  
  
Willow nodded somberly, turning back to the apartment. "You're right. I should go back in and apologize. Tell him we're really going to find a couple of guys and drag them back to our room to have sex with." She giggled madly when Tara grabbed her arm and stopped her from opening the apartment door.  
  
"Don't you dare," Tara gasped, laughing with Willow. "He'd probably have a heart attack."  
  
"Well then, maybe I should tell him the truth. That you and I are going back to do spells, and maybe other things." She raised her eyebrows a few times, grinning and ruining the leer she was going for.  
  
Tara shook her head and rolled her eyes. "He'd definitely have a heart attack if you told him that." She hid her sudden frown behind a cautious look around them. "Um, let's go be inside somewhere." Her steps quickened as she felt someone watching them.  
  
Willow, misinterpreting her friend's sudden want to be inside, grinned even wider. "Okay."  
  
  
  
(October 2001)  
  
Willow once again checked to make sure she had enough protection before heading out the door. She turned the key in the lock and heaved her bag onto her shoulder, heading toward the nearest cemetery.  
  
A demon hunting we go.  
  
She really hoped she wouldn't run into Spike tonight. Normally, she went hunting with him, but not anymore, due to him biting her and screwing things up. So unless she was going to sit home and wait for the shapeshifter to show up at her door and beg her to kill it, she had some patrolling to do. If Spike knew she was going, he'd probably try, as usual, to get her to stay home. Like a child.  
  
So she had almost been bitten a few times by vampires. It wasn't like it hadn't almost happened before. Or actually happened. Hello, marks on her neck, by said vampire. But, no, male chauvinistic Spike wanted Willow to stay home, like the child he obviously thought she was. And she was in no way going out to spite him. No, he was no longer a part of her decision making. At all.  
  
He didn't realize how much it meant to her to find this demon and kill it. It was pretty much the driving force behind her life now. Not a day went by that she didn't think about destroying the demon that had killed her friends. So, he could tell her to stay home as much as he wanted, she just wouldn't do it.  
  
On her way tonight, she decided to swing past Giles' apartment. Old apartment, she corrected herself. She hadn't been back to it since that night. Hadn't felt the need to. She'd had hope that William would fix things, and there was no point in doing something difficult if it became unnecessary. But now, a month after it had happened, a week since her last visit to the past, Willow was beginning to force herself to accept facts.  
  
They were dead, and they weren't coming back.  
  
William, for whatever reason, had failed, and her friends were dead. Permanently. It was time for her to accept it. She was alone, except for Spike and Tara. And, with things the way they now were between her and Spike... she only had Tara.  
Spike. What was she going to do about him? When she wasn't with him, she felt his loss like an ache.  
  
Because he's been a part of your life for over four years, in one way or another, her mind answered.  
  
That was simple enough to believe. She liked that answer, it let her off the hook. It meant that she wasn't in love with him.  
  
Even if he was totally crushable.  
  
Satisfied with her answer, Willow turned the corner and entered the courtyard of Giles' former apartment. Everything looked the same. It shouldn't. It shouldn't look like nothing had happened, because something had. Something that had changed her life forever.  
  
She went over to the fountain in the center of the courtyard, and sank down on the low brick wall, dropping her bag to the ground beside her. She absently rubbed her right shoulder.  
  
His window was dark. The door was closed. She wondered if his belongings had been moved out. Who would have taken them? Did he have any family? They really hadn't known much about Giles... never really bothered to ask. She got to her feet and went to his door, resting her hand lightly against it.  
  
"Bye, Giles," she whispered.  
  
She turned around and picked up her bag on her way out of the courtyard.  
  
The first cemetery was only a few blocks away from here. As she walked, she pulled out a stake, keeping it firmly in her hand as she made her way there. Once inside, she strolled through, almost like she was out for a walk on the beach. Looking for all the world like a helpless female, lost in the big bad darkness.  
  
Her plan worked, and soon she was dusting vamps left and right. Well, left... since she only found one, but she could have dusted them left and right if there were more. She was sure of it. The one that did show was obviously a newbie, since he still had dirt clinging to him. She saw him in front of her, and after a small amount of mental encouragement, Willow knocked him to the ground from behind and planted the stake firmly in his back. Unfortunately, the heart happened to be on the other side, and she had to yank out the stake and re-stake him, this time in the right spot.  
  
"Duh," she told herself in annoyance.  
  
She climbed to her feet and dusted herself off, looking around for more. Didn't look to be anything except her up and about. A noise off to her right had her thinking that maybe she was going to be able to tell Tara she'd dusted them left and right after all, but after carefully checking it out, it proved to be nothing more than a curious cat.  
  
She held her hand out and knelt down. "Here kitty, kitty, kitty--" the cat snarled at her and took off in the opposite direction. Willow shrugged, slinging her bag over her shoulder, and heading to the next cemetery.  
  
That one proved to be equally as dead as the first. Literally. In the fifth and last one, Willow hit pay-dirt. It wasn't the shapeshifter, but it was something to slay. One less demon running around. She was shoving her spare stake into her bag, on her way out of the cemetery and on her way to Tara's when she ran into a snarling, slobbering brown demon.  
  
He jumped on her from atop a nearby mausoleum, dropping her to the ground. She still had a stake in her hand, and quickly brought it up to stab him with it, but this demon was no fledgling. And he was strong.  
  
He pushed her hand away from his chest as if she were a fly, but to her it felt as if her hand had run into a brick wall at fifty miles an hour. She didn't think it was broken, but she was in a world of hurt at the moment. She scooted away from him using her good arm, as he advanced on her. When he reached down to pick her up, she swung her bag at him. It hit him on the side of the face, and he howled in pain. She didn't think she'd hit him that hard. A second later, she realized that she hadn't.  
  
The demon turned around, and she saw her stake sticking out of its back. He reached behind him, trying futilely to grab it, and fell flat on his face. Willow breathed a sigh of relief, and stood up, ignoring Spike's proffered hand. She picked up her bag, slung it carefully over her shoulder, and cradled her hand against her chest.  
  
He stood there, his eyes chastising her, his arms folded across his chest, and a half smoked cigarette dangling from his lips. "You all right then? Nothing broken?"  
  
She nodded, putting her injured wrist behind her back. "I'm good."  
  
"Good," he told her, tossing his cigarette to the side and grabbing her by her upper arms. "Mind telling me what the hell you're doing out here alone? Stutter Girl's not even with you?"  
  
She sighed and turned around, leaving him there.  
  
"Willow," he called after her. When she didn't stop or turn, he went after her, grabbing her shoulder and spinning her around. "Would you stop?" he asked in exasperation.  
  
"No," she told him, walking around him. He stepped easily back in front of her, and took her bag from her.  
  
"Willow, listen--" he began, sounding excited. He'd gotten to kill something, yay for him.  
  
"No," she said tiredly, taking her bag back from his unresisting hand, "you listen. We're not friends anymore. Okay? I'm not a piece of meat that you can snack on whenever you feel like it. So leave me alone."  
  
She didn't know exactly what had happened that night, but she knew it wasn't the way he'd told her. Since she had never forced William to feed off of her, and since the bite had happened during sex, she was pretty sure he was lying about her having a nightmare and pulling him down to her. In all likelihood she might have pulled him down to her thinking he was William, but he shouldn't have allowed it. He'd taken advantage of her while she slept, she hadn't been fully awake and therefore was unable to stop him. Would she have stopped him? From snacking on her? Most likely. Other things that might have led to them being in bed together, probably not. As she'd told William, she wanted him, and she couldn't hide that.  
  
"We're not friends?" he asked in puzzlement. "What happened?" He brushed the hair off her neck, and she saw his jaw tighten.  
  
Not in the mood for whatever game he was playing, she once again stepped around him, and he once again moved in front of her. She sighed heavily, and dropped her bag to the ground, glaring up at the too-handsome-for-his-own-good vampire. She finally lost her patience and snapped at him. "What? What is so all-fire important that you have to tell me?"  
  
He grabbed her wrist, intending to pull her closer to him, but dropped it when she yelped. He looked down at her swollen arm with a frown. "Is it broken?"  
  
Willow rolled her eyes. "I don't know, that's why I was on my way to the hospital."  
  
Grabbing her bag, he took her other arm, heading in the general direction of the hospital. "Sorry, didn't realize. We can talk on the way. Guess what?"  
  
She rolled her eyes again at his almost childlike tone, but didn't protest anymore. "I don't know. You found out you can kill humans again?" she asked snidely.  
  
He tossed a dirty look at her, but didn't break their stride. "Not quite, love. Go on, guess." His eyes were dancing with merriment, and she had a hard time not smiling at the sheer glee on his face.  
  
She was supposed to be angry here. Angry at the vampire helping her to the hospital. The vampire that had just saved her life. Biting her lip, she shrugged, wincing at the pain it caused her wrist. "I don't know, Spike, why don't you tell me?"  
  
They were at the emergency room entrance now, and just before they went inside, he stopped, spun around to face her, and kissed her hard. "It's me, love. Spike."  
  
She nodded slowly. "Yeah, I kind of figured that out from the clothes, the duster, the cigarette, and, oh, what else? The bleach blonde hair? The accent kind of gave it away too."  
  
He raised an eyebrow in amusement, and leaned forward with a wink, whispering, "Your Spike, Red. Not the pansy from this time. He's probably hanging around the slayer's grave or something, crying like a baby."  
  
Willow's eyes went wide, and she backed away from-- whoever it was in front of her. She had too damn many Spikes in her life. Was this the demon? Or William? Or her Spike pretending to be William?  
  
"Whoever you are... leave me alone." She turned and ran through the automatic doors, nearly knocking a doctor over.  
  
  
  
Willow spent the next two hours getting x-rayed, having a cast wrapped around her arm, and finally, at two am, she was allowed to leave. She sighed in relief when she finally walked out the doors into the dark parking lot.  
  
Life in Sunnydale was never dull.   
  
She stood in the parking lot, suddenly feeling pretty depressed. She couldn't even defend herself anymore. How was she supposed to kill the demon that had killed her friends if she couldn't even hold a stake?  
  
Something wet ran down her cheek, and Willow wiped at it impatiently. A moment later it happened again, and she realized what it was.  
  
Tears? Now was when she finally let herself cry? The spell had been broken for a few days now, and since then she'd had no emotional pain. No tears. No grief. But now, she could feel all of the grief she'd bottled up and shoved into a corner flooding through her, and she was overwhelmed. She sank down onto her knees, sobbing.  
  
She cried for her friends. She cried because she'd lost Spike. And she cried because she was alone.  
  
"Willow?"  
  
Willow looked up tearfully. Spike was standing there, looking worried, but keeping his distance. She sniffed and sat down on the ground, ignoring the pebbles poking her. "What?" she asked grumpily.  
  
He chuckled and held his hand out to her. "Come on, love, I'll take you home."  
  
She stared at his hand for a second, before taking it. She didn't let go once she was on her feet. "I'm not going home, I'm going to Tara's." Suddenly she gasped, and not because his hand tightened painfully on hers, even though it did. "Oh, no. I forgot to call Tara and let her know I wasn't coming. And that I'm all right." She closed her eyes in self deprecation. "She's probably worried out of her mind."  
  
"Let her," Spike told her, uncaring.  
  
"Spike, don't start with me. I already told you-- wait a minute." She dropped his hand and backed away. "How do I know you're you?"  
  
"Ask me a question?" he suggested.  
  
She thought quickly while keeping an eye on him. "Okay. Um, what did we argue about the last time I saw you?" That ought to cover both Spikes and the demon.  
  
Spike grinned lazily. "You told me to leave you alone." He pointed to the emergency entrance.  
  
"Cute. I meant before that." She tried to cross her arms over her chest, but ended up hitting her breast with the cast. "Ow."  
  
"You should try magick on that," he told her.  
  
"I'm fine," she said, holding back her smile. Her Spike wouldn't have told her to use magick. Not in a million years. So, one down, two to go.  
  
He sighed heavily, looking up at the sky as he tried to remember. "Oh, yeah. That's an easy one. Stutter Girl."  
  
She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist, and leaning against him, resting her cheek against his chest. She closed her eyes, never wanting to let go. "It's really you. And don't call her that."  
  
Spike chuckled, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and caressing her back. She sighed, enjoying the feeling of just being held.  
  
The fact that it was Spike had nothing to do with it. Nothing whatsoever.  
  
She sighed again, feeling safe and loved, even if only for a few minutes. Tara was once again forgotten.  
  
  
  
Spike watched the couple in the parking lot from across the street. Willow looked very much like she belonged in William's arms, like she was born to be held by him. Spike was actually jealous. Of himself, no less. He shook his head at his own thoughts.  
  
He moved quietly across the street, heading straight for them. William saw him and grinned arrogantly, then leaned down and whispered in Willow's ear.  
  
"We have company, love."  
  
Willow stiffened, then pulled away, turning to face him. Her eyes widened, narrowed, then went blank. Panic, anger and then nothing. He'd rather see panic and anger than nothing.  
  
"Spike," she said softly. "Or are you the demon?"  
  
"Not *the* demon. Just *a* demon." He stood directly in front of them now, glaring pointedly at their clasped hands.  
  
"What was the last thing we argued about?" she asked him.  
  
He tossed a glance at William, who was watching them carefully. "Him."  
  
"More specific please?" She waited patiently.  
  
He shrugged. "Me biting you."  
  
She nodded curtly. "You're you."  
  
"He bit you?" William asked incredulously. "Why in bloody hell did you let him bite you?"  
  
Spike ignored him, fixing his eyes on Willow. "What happened to your arm?" Concern laced his words no matter how much he tried to keep it out.  
  
Willow looked from one Spike to the other, looking very weirded out. "A demon broke it."  
  
William smirked at Spike, pulling Willow closer to his side. "I saved her."  
  
"Well good for you," Spike enthused. "You've just taken your first step into Pansyville."  
  
He saw Willow biting her lip to keep her laughter at bay, and was encouraged. Maybe he hadn't lost her completely after all.  
  
William, on the other hand, took a step closer to Spike. "You know, if I didn't have anything to live for," he tossed an almost unnoticed look at Willow, "I'd kill myself just to get rid of you. Mate."  
  
Willow pulled her hand free of William's and picked up her bag. "I'm going home. To Tara's. But, hey, don't let me stop the two of you. Why don't you just beat the crap out of each other, that sounds like fun, huh?" She took off down the street, leaving the two Spikes staring after her.  
  
Spike took one step after her before turning around and stalking off in the opposite direction. He knew without a doubt that William was going after her.  
  
And it didn't bother him. He kicked a parked car as he crossed the street, causing it's alarm to start blaring.  
  
Didn't bother him at all. 


	14. What Comes part14

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, 6, or 11.  
  
PART 14  
  
(October 2001)  
  
Willow walked through the empty hallway like a prisoner to the electric chair. She had decided to tell Tara the complete truth about her and William, and she didn't think Tara would be able to forgive her, so she felt like this was the beginning of the end.  
  
She stopped in front of the familiar door and raised her hand to knock. Tara had given her a key, but under the circumstances, she didn't want to use it.  
  
A wide awake and alert Tara answered the door only seconds after Willow knocked. Her eyes went wide when she took in Willow's tired face, and the cast on her arm.  
  
"Willow. Are you all right?" She ushered her girlfriend in, shutting the door behind her.  
  
Willow sat down on the edge of the bed with Tara beside her and smiled tremulously. "I'm sorry I didn't come over earlier. I should've at least called."  
  
Tara smiled reassuringly. "It's okay." Her eyes fell to the stark white cast on Willow's arm. "You had a huge excuse."  
  
Willow shook her head, upset with Tara for being so understanding and forgiving. "But, no, see I had plenty of time, and I didn't call you. It's unforgivable."  
  
Tara's brow furrowed at Willow's self flagellation and she leaned forward, kissing her tenderly. "It's okay. I forgive you."  
  
Willow started to cry, and she damned the spell for having failed on her. "You won't when I tell you the rest." She sniffled pitifully. "I have something to tell you... and it's gonna be hard to explain, but-- I went back in time," she blurted out.  
  
Tara's response was something that Willow never would have expected in a million years. "I know. I sent you there."  
  
Willow shot to her feet. "What? You know? You sent me-- what? Why?" She sank back down on the bed and stared at her girlfriend.  
  
Tara looked down at her folded hands, and whispered, "I'm sorry, Willow, I thought what I was doing was right. But-- but, everything went wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like this."  
  
"What do you mean? Why did you do it? Oh, my God... the demon--"  
  
"No," Tara said loudly. Realizing she was almost shouting, she spoke more quietly. "No, I didn't know about the demon until S-- Spike told me. It was a coincidence, that's all." She shook her head sadly. "When I saw--" seeing Willow's confused look, she started over. "A week before Buffy and Xander... died, I did a spell. To see auras."  
  
"Can't you already see them? I mean, isn't that how you knew Buffy wasn't Buffy when she was Faith?"  
  
Tara nodded. "To a point. I can sort of see a..." she tilted her head to the side, trying to find the right words. "It's hard to explain. I see a distortion, if I really concentrate. But, I wanted to see colors, moods, you know, just for fun."  
  
Willow nodded in understanding. She too liked to play with magick at times, though she hadn't told anyone except Tara, and sometimes not even her. "What did you see?" she asked.  
  
Tara frowned momentarily, before her face smoothed out again. "Do you remember when we were at the Bronze? Um, all of us were there. And Spike."  
  
Willow thought back, and her eyes widened. "I remember. Every time Spike came near us you got all," she fluttered her good hand in front of her. "Wiggy."  
  
"Yeah, 'cause, he had this weird colored aura. It was sort of light gray. Meaning he's not completely evil. White is pure, black is evil. He's got more goodness in him than evil, but that isn't what was so strange."  
  
Willow leaned forward slightly. "I always knew there was something different about him."  
  
"The weird thing was watching his aura changing colors whenever someone went near him." Tara smiled in remembrance. "With Xander, Spike's aura went darker, just a bit. I think he liked Xander, but Xander made him mad. A lot."  
  
Willow giggled. "Xander was good at that. What about Buffy? I'll bet it turned red, for love, huh?"  
  
Tara half nodded and half shook her head. "Um, when Buffy was around it kind of went multicolored. She made him feel a whole range of things, I think." She stood up and went to her bookshelf, pulling out one of the larger tomes there. "It says here," she mumbled, flipping through the pages until she found the one she wanted, "that red is love, and pink is friendship, and yellow is sort of lust, and all of those colors were there whenever Buffy went near him, and some black. It turned black when she insulted him, or, um, went near you."  
  
Willow's eyebrows rose in astonishment. "Me? Why?" And then a thought struck her. "He hates me, doesn't he?" she whispered, "That's why you wigged every time he came near us." Standing up, she turned away from Tara, and toward the window. She went over to it, opening it with a sniffle.  
  
Tara moved behind her, softly caressing her back. "No, no, it doesn't mean that. He doesn't hate you. See, that's what I thought too, but it doesn't mean that."  
  
Willow turned in her arms, letting Tara hold her, seeking comfort where she didn't deserve it.  
  
"His aura turned bright red whenever he was near you. That's what scared me so much."  
  
Willow pulled away, staring into Tara's sad face. "Red? But... how? He doesn't even like me. He-- he bit me," she whispered, lifting her hair to show Tara the fresh mark that had recently joined the growing collection on her neck.  
  
Tara's eyes flashed with hurt, but she hid it quickly. Willow saw it anyway. "I'm sorry." Then she remembered that Tara was the reason she'd gone back in time in the first place, causing everything that had happened since. "But-- wait, no I'm not. I'm... angry. At you. Why did you send me back there? Why did Spike's aura make you do that?" She turned back around, staring out the window. She thought she saw someone standing in the shadows below, but nothing moved.  
  
"The book says that bright red like that means soul mates, and I was scared and angry. And hurt," she whispered.  
  
"Soul mates?" Willow scoffed. "Please. Me and Spike are so not soul mates. Buffy and Angel are soul mates. Maybe even Xander and Anya. But me and Spike? Not even a chance." It wasn't possible, was it? No, absolutely not. He didn't even *have* a soul to mate with hers. She just couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe it. But... her curiosity got the best of her, and she had to ask. "Um, what about me? What did you see in my aura?"  
  
"Around me it was light red." She smiled softly. "We've always known each other, sometimes as lovers. Sometimes as friends or family."  
  
Willow smiled back. "Yeah? See, told you I loved you," she smirked. "And everyone else?" She was eager to hear about this, and to understand Tara's reaction. "I bet me and Xander have known each other for thousands of years. And Buffy too. And Giles. Oh, and Anya."  
  
They both laughed and Willow felt somewhat healed again. Like coming home. She grabbed Tara's hand and held on tight, kissing it lightly. They sat in the window, half in and half out, talking quietly.  
  
"Yep. I think we've all known each other for a long, long time. It's kind of freaky if you think about it. Knowing that we've met before, and will meet again... like we aren't in control or something."  
  
"Yeah, it is. So... you've pretty much avoided telling me what my aura looked like around Spike."  
  
Tara took a deep breath, and shrugged. "Bright red. Same as his. You and Spike are soul mates."  
  
Willow shook her head. She couldn't believe this. Her and Spike, soul mates? Forever destined to be together? How did that work with him living through more than his fair share of lifetimes? A giggle escaped her when she thought of what his reaction would be.  
  
He'd probably dust himself.  
  
"Willow. I know you slept with him."  
  
Willow's head snapped up and she stared at Tara. "What? You know? How? Oh, God. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, it just happened. Buffy and Giles were dead, I'd been bitten and shot and then I wasn't here, I was somewhere else, and thinking it might have all been a dream, and then there was Spike, all drunk and demanding, and... I'm sorry. I'm a terrible girlfriend." The tears started again, and Tara wiped them away tenderly.  
  
"I didn't know for sure until just now," she whispered. "It's my fault. I'm the one that sent you there in the first place. I thought maybe if you stopped him from getting caught by the Initiative, then he'd leave town, and not be here anymore."  
  
Willow frowned. "The Initiative? That happened three months before I went back..." a giggle escaped her, and she bit her lip. "You sent me to the wrong time." Another giggle slipped out. "And if I'd kept him from getting chipped we'd probably all be dead now." After the nerve wracking night she'd just had, and finding out that her and Spike were soul mates, coupled with the fact that Tara was the reason she went back in time... to stop her soul mate from being implanted, thereby allowing him to kill them all was a bit much to take all at once. She shook with laughter, and once the laughter started, she couldn't stop it.  
  
  
  
Early the next morning, Willow went home. Tara had classes, and Willow wanted to be in her own home. She didn't feel entirely comfortable with Tara anymore, and she could see the same feelings of discomfort in Tara's eyes when she looked at her. They'd spent the night talking, trying to figure out what had gone wrong with the time spell and William's lack of results. They hadn't come to any real conclusions except that things between them had changed, and they weren't sure where to go from there.  
  
When she got home, she knew from the stillness of the house that her parents were still gone. Gosh, what else was new? She wished they were there. Even with everything going on, and Spikes and Williams popping up all over the place, she wished they were here. They probably wouldn't ask too many questions, questions she wasn't prepared to answer, but they would be there for comfort.  
  
She tried to tell herself that she needed time alone to figure things out, because of how screwed up, and confusing her life was right now, but it didn't help. She was starting to have a hard time figuring out what was real, what was fake, what were dreams, and who was who.  
  
She headed upstairs to her room, her feet taking the stairs one slow step at a time. By the time she got to the top, she was half asleep. Yawning widely, she pulled her shirt off, pushed open her bedroom door and dropped onto her bed. She was so tired. Tired of trying to figure out who she was talking to, who she was being bitten by, who she was with. Crawling under the covers, she yawned again, falling asleep almost immediately.  
  
  
  
(October 2001)  
  
Willow woke up in a fairly decent mood the next afternoon, despite the fact that she had a broken arm, and her girlfriend was responsible for... well, she just wouldn't go there. Some things were best left not-thought about. And this was one of those things.  
  
After an awkward shower with a plastic bag around her arm, she went downstairs and ate breakfast. Her parents were due back in a few days, according to the message on the machine, so she'd have to clean the place up and come up with an excuse for her arm. That left her with only tonight and the next for demon hunting. She could still search while they were here, but it would be hard to sneak in and out.  
  
Shrugging her bag over her shoulder, she once again headed out, hoping she wouldn't run into... oh, and look. There he was. Just like that first night, only he wasn't walking away from her house, he was walking toward it. Not caring to have a big ole long, involved conversation with the blood-stealing jerk, she locked her front door, slipped her keys in her pocket, and took off toward the first cemetery, hoping he hadn't seen her.  
  
"Willow."  
  
But of course he had.  
  
He ran up behind her, grabbing her unhurt arm. "It's me, um, Past Spike." He waggled his eyebrows, leering at her, "The sexy one you slept with."  
  
Willow sighed, eyeing his red shirt. William still wore the red shirt, Spike didn't. So, this was most likely William. Was she happy about that? Unfortunately, yes.  
  
But, she kept up the pace, entering the cemetery gates with a frustrated sigh. "Who's sending us all around in time, and why?" she asked the silent night sky, then the vampire next to her. "Any idea, William?" She wasn't going to let herself lose control with him this time. Keep him at a distance, and she'd be fine. Be formal.  
  
"Oh, it's William now, is it, love?" He wrapped his arms around her, forcing her to drop her bag of weapons, and pressed her lightly back against the tree behind her.  
  
She nodded, and shrugged out of his embrace, though she didn't want to. "Yeah, and just so your ego doesn't go soaring with the doves, it's something Spike and I came up with to differentiate between you two."  
  
Undaunted, William's hands slid down her arms to entangle with her hands. His touch was so gentle on her broken arm, that she didn't even wince. He held them against the tree above her head and nipped at her neck softly, causing shivers of desire to snake through her. "And what about you, love? What do I call the other you?"  
  
Willow's eyes slid shut at the feel of him pressed up against her, and his husky voice in her ear. She should be stopping him, not standing there like a more than willing participant.  
  
Her tongue darted out to wet suddenly dry lips, and she opened her mouth to tell him to leave her alone. "Robin," was what came out in a whisper.  
  
Weakling, she berated herself.  
  
Feeling him move away from her neck, she opened her eyes. His mouth hovered above hers. She waited breathlessly for his lips to touch her, but they didn't. He stayed that way, watching her. She held herself still, fighting against every nerve ending in her body that was screaming at her to push him to the ground and touch every inch of his gorgeous body. Why was it that every time she and William got together they ended up all over each other?  
  
Well, not this time, she vowed, pulling her hands away from his and straightening her clothes. He let her go, but didn't move. They stood there watching each other, and then as suddenly as a vampire turns to dust, William's mouth was on hers, and she was moaning with pleasure.  
  
"Stop," she whispered, sliding her unencumbered hand under his shirt, and down below the waistband of his jeans.  
  
"Yeah, any second now," he mumbled, settling one of his legs between her thighs.  
  
She held him to her, delighting in the feel of his erection pressing against her. His cool skin under her hands tensed when she bit his lip, gently tugging on the flesh. He pulled back to grin at her. Her giggle turned into a squeal when he scraped his blunt teeth along her neck, making her shiver. God, who knew vampires could be so erotic?  
  
Suddenly, there was empty air where William had been. Her eyes flew open just in time to see Spike let go of William's duster. He shoved his younger twin away from him, and was about to punch him when Willow found her voice.  
  
"Spike, don't!"  
  
He turned to her in surprise. "Willow?" His glare turned back to William, but his question was directed at her. "Did he hurt you?"  
  
Willow joined the two of them, pushing William away from Spike and standing in front of him. "Don't touch him, Spike, if you do--"  
  
Spike's eyes narrowed at her, and he took a step closer. "Don't threaten me," he told her, his voice cold.  
  
William pushed Willow out of the way. "Don't touch her."  
  
Willow grabbed Spike's arm desperately. "Stop it. You can't--"  
  
Too late. Spike swung at William, and landed a punch on his jaw. As soon as their flesh touched, they were thrown a good ten feet away from each other. Willow ran to Spike first, checking to see if he was all right. He was sitting up slowly, staring across the distance between him and William, a strange look on his face.  
  
"Are you okay?" she asked him. "I tried to warn you, you doof."  
  
Spike leaned back against one of the headstones. He bent his legs at the knee, resting his forearms on them, and letting his head hang between them. "I'm fine."  
  
Willow looked over at William to see him in the same position as Spike. She joined him, kneeling by his side. He raised his head and looked at her.  
  
She sighed. "You all right?"  
  
"Peachy," he told her, a small smile lighting his lips. His eyes darted to Spike, who was watching them closely. "What was that?" he asked.  
  
"No two people can occupy the same space at the same time. Law of physics. I always wondered if that was true. And what would happen if they did."  
  
He was shaking his head. "Not that, love. The--"  
  
"Willow, come here," Spike ordered her.  
  
"I've always had a problem with obeying orders," she told William in a low voice, crossing her arms over chest.  
  
William laughed, and got to his feet, helping her up. "I'll remember that."  
  
Spike stared at Willow intently. "Come here."  
  
The seriousness in his eyes caught her attention, and she started over. "What?"  
  
William grabbed her hand, pulling her back to him. "Bloody ponce is jealous," he told her, then yelled across the clearing to Spike, "just because your bitch is dead doesn't mean you can have mine."  
  
Willow yanked her hand out of William's grip. "Don't talk about Buffy like that. Ever." Unsure of what was going on with the two of them, Willow decided to play it safe and join Spike.  
  
Spike actually breathed a sigh of relief when she walked away from his counterpart, and stood next to him.  
  
"What's with the orders? A simple, polite request would have sufficed, you know." He grabbed her by her cast, pulling her toward him. She gasped in pain. "Ow." When he didn't let her go, Willow cleared her throat and tried again. "Ow," she said pointedly.  
  
If anything, his grip actually tightened. She once again found herself having to yank her arm out of someone's grip. He let her go, just as William had, but stepped in front of her. There's that damn protecting thing again. And from himself, no less.  
  
"Um, Spike. Hello. He can't hurt me, remember?" She tried hard not to sound like she was talking to a child, but it came out that way anyway.  
  
"Run," he bit out.  
  
Willow sucked in a breath, tossing a quick glance at William. "You think he's the shapeshifter? I'm pretty sure he's not."  
  
"No, Willow. Just run. Now." He shoved her away from him, hard. She fell to the ground, landing on her hands and knees. She heard Spike curse behind her, and felt him pick her up, setting her back on her feet. "Go," he barked. "Get the bloody hell out of this cemetery unless you feel like being a meal." He morphed his face and stalked toward her, his eyes feral and cruel.  
  
"The chip," she whispered. "It's gone." He'd hurt her a couple of times since his and William's impromptu touching session. Her wrist, then throwing her to the ground. But she'd been too stupid to get it, and now it might be too late. Spike was advancing on her, looking for all the world like he wanted to kill her. She backed away slowly, tossing a quick glance over his shoulder at William. He was also in game face, but he wasn't watching her. His eyes were fixed on Spike as he stalked toward Willow.  
  
She turned and ran, hearing quick footsteps behind her. An arm snaked around her waist after only a few yards, and she screamed, terrified, as she was hauled back against a hard chest. She kicked and hit at him, trying to get him to drop her. He held on tight though, and swung her around, landing a punch to her jaw. She sagged against him, blacking out a second later.  
  
  
  
(October 2000)  
  
When Willow woke up, she found herself in her own bed, alone. Her jaw throbbed painfully. Her mouth felt like the Sahara, her eyes like they had dunes in them, and her head like it was stuffed full of sand. She held herself still for a few minutes, willing the aches and pains to go away, when they didn't, she did a small healing spell, and waited. She didn't know what had happened last night after one of the Spike's punched her, but she intended to find out as soon as she could.  
  
Ten minutes later, she was in the shower, washing away the dirt and soreness from her body. The hot water sluiced over her body, energizing her, making her feel alive again. She wanted to spend all day in there, but answers were needed, and she wouldn't find them here. She wasn't sure where she would find them, but she was pretty sure Spike would be a good start.  
  
Wasn't he always?  
  
She dried off quickly, combed her hair, dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans, and a white tank top, with no shoes. Feeling a little less sore, and a lot more refreshed, she finally headed downstairs. Spike, she knew, was in the house somewhere. She'd heard him before she jumped into the shower. She'd wanted to go straight to him and demand answers, but the horrid condition she was in demanded immediate attention.  
  
An all too often occurrence.  
  
Rounding the corner, Willow ran straight into him. "Spike. Just the demon I wanted to see. What happened last night?"  
  
Spike, dressed in his usual black on black, minus the duster, looked ready to bolt. If the sun hadn't been shining, she was sure he would have. Her curiosity went up a notch. She couldn't remember anything that had happened after being punched, but apparently something big had gone down.  
  
"Well?" she prompted, when he remained silent.  
  
He leaned sideways against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, trying very hard to look casual, but she wasn't buying it. "You don't remember?" His voice was steady, normal, his eyes not quite landing on hers.  
  
"No, that would be why I'm asking you. You were there." It wasn't a question.  
  
He nodded slowly. "I was. What do you remember?"  
  
"You and William fighting. Then one of you hit me. After that, nothing." She went past him, into the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of orange juice and drank it down. "This loss of memory thing is getting old. Thought, this time I was unconscious, therefore, not having memories of that time is probably normal." She saw him watching her, his eyes wary. Oh, boy. "What'd you do?" she asked.  
  
"What makes you think I did anything?" he scoffed. "Maybe you did something. Ever think of that?"  
  
Truthfully, she hadn't thought of that. But why should she? He was the one acting all nervous and guilty. Of course, maybe she'd done something to make him nervous. Her eyes went wide. What if she'd mistaken him for William and jumped him? That would certainly account for his wary looks.  
  
She groaned loudly, not sure she wanted to know. "What'd I do?"  
  
Spike chuckled deeply, and Willow cursed him silently for being able to affect her so much by doing so little. "Nothing. But it was fun watching you squirm." He sat down at the kitchen table, a mug of blood in front of him.  
  
Willow poured another glass of orange juice before sitting down across from him. This was getting to be all too familiar. Ignoring the way it made her feel, she lifted tired eyes to Spike. "Just tell me what happened. I feel like I'm going nuts. All this time travel and people who aren't who they look like, my friends are all dead. I've come to accept that it's not going to change anything no matter what William tries, and now something was done to me and I wasn't awake for it. Getting some scary vibes here, Spike." She spoke earnestly, "I just want it all to end. I'm exhausted from trying to figure things out. So... what happened?"  
  
Spike stretched back in his usual pose. "Nothing happened. William came here somehow, but you already know that. You ran into him on patrol." His eyes pinned her to her seat. "A patrol you weren't supposed to be on, Willow. You could've gotten killed."  
  
"By William?" she asked incredulously. "He wouldn't kill me." Suddenly unsure, she whispered, "Would he?"  
  
Spike shrugged. "I don't know, he's not me anymore. He's changed so much that I don't know what he'd do. I wanted to kill you for a long time." He grinned shamefacedly. "I think I stopped wanting to kill all of you right after we fought Adam."  
  
"Some of us fought Adam," she pointed out, "while some of us fought *with* Adam."  
  
Spike nodded, waving his hand dismissively. "Yeah, whatever. Point is, William doesn't seem to want to kill you, but I couldn't tell you for sure. I think he's a bit obsessed with you. But, I'm sure you have no idea why."  
  
Willow sat back. "Obsessed? With me? See, no, 'cause, 'obsessed' and 'me', don't go in the same sentence together. Unless it's me obsessed with something. Or someone. Like Xander. I was obsessed with him for pretty much my whole life."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes and sat forward. "Willow, listen to me, for once in your life. Stay away from William. He's dangerous."  
  
"Yeah, he might nibble me to death," she chuckled, but the chuckle died in her throat at the images that came to mind. Not a bad way to go. "Spike, you never hurt me, so how could he?"  
  
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "The chip is gone. Malfunctioning. I'm not sure what happened. When I ran into him, I thought he was attacking someone. That someone turned out to be you."  
  
The implant was gone? But how? When? Had William been attacking her? Her voice only shook a little when she spoke. "He attacked me?"  
  
"No, not in the, 'I want you dead' kind of way."  
  
"But you said-- what way then?" She was still trying to get her mind around the fact that their implants were gone. Was he going to kill her? He said he didn't want to anymore, but something had happened last night.  
  
"It was more in the, 'I want you' way."  
  
Lost in thought, Willow didn't hear everything Spike said, only part of it. Her eyes snapped to his. Had Spike just said he wanted her? No, she must have only heard part of it. He probably said he wanted her to do something. That had to be it.  
  
"Um, what?" 


	15. What Comes part15

Disclaimer: See part 1, 6, or 11.  
  
PART 15  
  
(October 2001)  
  
Later that night, after Spike left to get more blood at Willy's, Willow grabbed her spell books and headed downstairs for something to eat. Things between her and Spike were almost like they used to be. She couldn't hold a grudge forever, and all he'd done is take her blood, and okay, that was really bad, but she didn't like being angry with him.  
  
Didn't like him not being around. She missed him when he wasn't there. He'd promised never to do it again, and though she wasn't about to believe him, she wasn't going to lose him over this. She'd just have to be more careful around him.  
  
And definitely not sleep in the same bed anymore.  
  
Which brought her to William, and where he'd spent the night. She wasn't too inclined to worry about him, since he'd punched her in the face last night, but she did care, and she did worry.  
  
She fixed herself a frozen dinner and went through her books while she ate. Spike had told her earlier that William hit her because she wouldn't stop screaming and struggling, and he was afraid she'd hurt herself. He also hadn't realized until then that the implant was no longer working. He'd hit her harder than he'd intended.  
  
That's what Spike said anyway.  
  
She thought she believed him, since he pretty much hated himself now, and most likely wouldn't lie about it, but it didn't make it any easier to take. William had hit her without a second thought. What was to keep him from killing her? Not a damn thing.  
  
Well, she was through being pushed around and taken advantage of. It was time for action. Time to find and kill a demon.  
  
Not a William, or Spike demon, but a shape-shifting one. The kind that liked to kill her friends and leave her for dead... well, that too could be Spike, but not this time. Thankfully, and hopefully, never again.  
  
Maybe afterwards she could find the spell Tara used and go back to fix things if they weren't already fixed.  
  
She flipped through the pages, past love, money, and revenge spells, but came up empty. Closing that book, she picked up another one and found something she hadn't been looking for.  
  
A shot of excitement went through her.  
  
This had to be the reason the past hadn't changed. A Dampening spell. It was obvious. Something, or someone--probably the shapeshifter--was dampening the changes William had made, and that's why they weren't seeing the results.  
  
With a short, excited yell, Willow ran upstairs for the ingredients to counteract the spell. She had everything on hand, except for the blood of the one who'd cast the Dampening spell. Damn it. Where was she going to get that? And if she got close enough to get blood from whatever it was, she would most likely just kill it. That would take care of the Dampening spell, wouldn't it? Why were things in the magick department always so complicated?  
  
Deflated, Willow collapsed back into the kitchen chair. Back to her original idea. A demon locating spell. That was easy enough to find. And this time, she had everything she needed. Four white candles, a necklace, and a map of Sunnydale. Simple.  
  
Spreading the map on the kitchen table, she set the candles down, one in each direction, and lit them. Holding the necklace above the map, she concentrated on what she wanted to find. The necklace started to swing in circles, wider and wider, until it got to an area just outside of its reach, then it swung back and forth. Willow moved the necklace in that direction and it stopped moving completely when it got to the cemetery where Spike lived.  
  
Gathering the bag she'd been keeping stocked with weapons, Willow blew out the candles and ran out the door. She dashed across town in record time, making it to Spike's cemetery, panting and out of breath. Her stake was out and at the ready as she went through the gates, keeping an eye out for... anyone that looked like they didn't belong.  
  
Or Spike.  
  
Willow saw him heading in her direction, and ducked behind a brick gate post, watching him approach. He'd probably grab her by the arm and forcibly drag her back to the house if he saw her. Best to stay hidden.  
  
Black jeans. Black T-Shirt. Duster. It was one of the real ones. She sighed and waited for him to leave before continuing her search. He stopped at the entrance, and dug out a cigarette, lighting it with extreme slowness.  
  
"Looking for me?" he asked, looking straight ahead.  
  
Willow stepped out from behind the post with another sigh. "Not unless you're a shape-shifting demon."  
  
He turned to face her, and she was surprised to see the angry tilt to his lips, and the glint of steel in his eyes. "Rather fickle, aren't you? Never quite satisfied with the one you're with. Nope, not our Willow. She goes from one person to the next, using them until she finds someone else she wants. Gender doesn't even stop her."  
  
Willow stared at him, anger working its way to the surface. What was his problem now? She had better things to do than argue with Spike yet again. She had demon killing to do.  
  
He leaned toward her, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk, his voice soft. "First Oz, then Xander, then back to ole Oz, and when he gets sick of you, you move on to Tara. Is Tara enough to hold your interest for a while? Not a chance!" He grinned when she jumped back, startled. "'Cause then you spot a vampire you just *have* to have. But even he's not enough for you, so you sleep with his future self, then act like it didn't happen. Then you go *back* to the witch. And now you're looking for the shapeshifter. Are you never satisfied, love?"  
  
Unable to believe he was saying these things to her, she slapped his smirking face. What hurt so much, was that he was right. He wasn't saying anything she hadn't already thought to herself since she'd slept with--  
  
Slept with Spike? Future Spike? Her dream... oh, God. No. He'd fed off of her, not had sex with her. No, this was the demon, the shapeshifter, he was lying for his own purposes and none of what he said was real. She tightened her grip on the stake behind her back, and forced a smile to her face.  
  
"Wanna know something, Spike?" she asked softly.  
  
He shrugged. "Not really. I was just on my way out. Be seeing you, pet." He tossed his cigarette at her feet and stomped on it.  
  
Willow grabbed him by the arm and swung the stake around to his chest. His hand grabbed hers just before she plunged the stake into his heart and squeezed her unhurt wrist. She yelled in pain and dropped the stake. Okay, her staking arm was a bit useless at the moment, being in a cast and all, so her left hand was the best she could do, which was pretty pathetic. Still, did he have to make it look so effortless?  
  
And damn it. Why wouldn't this thing leave her alone?  
  
He frowned angrily, his eyes full of fury. "What the hell are you doing? It's not enough to leave them anymore, now you have to kill them?"  
  
Willow avoided the hurt and pain she saw in his blue eyes, because it wasn't real. This wasn't Spike. This was the demon that had killed her friends.  
  
She leaned forward, much the same as he'd done, and whispered, "Go to hell, demon." She kicked him in the crotch and ran toward Spike's crypt, dropping her bag along the way, which was only slowing her down. She dodged around headstones and ducked under low hanging branches. Spike's crypt was just ahead, within reach. Maybe William was there. He was safer than the thing chasing after her. She chanced a glance behind her and was satisfied to see Fake Spike yards behind her.  
  
She slammed into the heavy metal door and shoved it open, swinging it shut behind her, coming to a standstill at the entrance. William wasn't there. Neither was Spike.  
  
The fake one came running through the door a second later. She looked around for a weapon, but there was nothing there except the usual stuff. A nice syringe might've helped, in order to get the blood to stop the spell. She was out of luck on both, and the shapeshifter was most likely not about to just let her go. She was in deep trouble. The last time the shapeshifter had her alone, it'd tried to choke her to death. Before that, it'd given her a nice bite and a crossbow bolt to the shoulder. Not encouraging thoughts.  
  
He shoved the door shut, and leaned back against it. "You're afraid of me," he stated, looking slightly less furious than before.  
  
"Duh," she said derisively, rolling her eyes in annoyance.  
  
He closed his eyes with a tired sigh, before opening them again. "I won't hurt you again. I didn't know--" he stopped, looking like he was at a loss for words. "Look, I was angry. Even after all this time, you're still with Stutter Girl. Yes, the chip's disabled, but I don't want to hurt you. Definitely don't want to kill you. Shaggin', though, that's a different story altogether." He grinned, pushing away from the door. His steps slowly brought him closer to her, even as she backed away.  
  
"You're not William. Not Spike either. So just stop pretending and tell me what you want. I'm sick of all of this. I just want it finished." She crossed her arms over her chest, keeping a wary eye on him.  
  
"I am William. I gave you that bruise on your jaw last night," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just gotta say, this is getting too confusing."  
  
Pretty sure he was telling the truth, she nodded, but kept her distance. "Tell me about it. I'm going to get a bunch of those, 'Hello, my name is...' tags and make you and Spike wear them." She backed away from him, not wanting to be near William any more than the demon, at the moment. He'd just chased her through the cemetery, after degrading her, and-- "What was all that about back there? I didn't sleep with Spike. Well, aside from the actual sleep-having kind of sleeping with him. No sex, I mean."  
  
He once again looked furious, but kept his distance. Her emotions were at an all time high right now and adrenaline was pumping through her veins after her mad dash through the cemetery, so she was in no mood to listen to a long story on Spike's evil, jealous ways. From Spike, no less.  
  
"You're the only person I've had sex with in two months." She took a deep breath, letting her anger fuel her. So many things she'd stuffed down, buried deep... now seemed like a good time to get them out. "And what the hell are you so pissed about anyway? I was cheating on my girlfriend with you, so if anyone has any reason to be angry, it's her."  
  
He shook his head, his eyes narrowing at her. "You're still pretending it didn't happen?" His sneer was uncalled for, she thought, definitely not something she was used to seeing from him lately. "When that bloody bastard was carrying you home last night he let it 'slip' that he'd screwed you. Quite thoroughly at that." His eyes fell to the bitemark on her neck. "Took your blood too."   
  
Willow ran her hand along her neck, feeling all the scars there. "That's not true," she whispered, a sudden sinking feeling in her stomach. "I don't remember-- I-- I didn't..."  
  
He took a few steps closer, his voice gentle, his expression soft. "You really don't remember?"  
  
She shook her head in agitation. "No. I had a dream... but it was you, not Spike." She couldn't believe this was happening. She'd slept with Spike. Had sex with her Spike. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. Spike had taken advantage of her more than she'd thought. Way more.  
  
And he'd pay for that.  
  
William was in front of her now, looking angry. Not at her this time. He pulled her into his arms with a sigh.  
  
"We should go. Just leave Sunnydale, leave Spike, and Stutter Girl, leave it all behind."  
  
Willow smiled against his chest. "You're not from this time, and you'll probably end up disappearing soon, so I don't think--" she stopped suddenly, remembering how she'd gone back in time. "Wait a minute. How'd you get here? And how... Tara didn't do this." She pulled away with a frown.  
  
"Tara. What's she got to do with anything?" He pulled her back into his arms, ignoring her weak tries at pulling away.  
  
Giving up, she stayed exactly where she wanted to be anyway. "She's the reason I went back in the first place. She saw-- something, and she sent me back to keep you from getting captured by the Initiative. She thought..." Willow let her voice drift off, having no idea what to tell him. No way was she going to mention the soul mates thing, because she still didn't believe it herself.  
  
His chest shook with laughter at her confession. "I told you there was something between us, love, even she saw it. She's not as dense as I thought she was." He laughed even harder when she slapped his arm. "So, what, she sent you back to keep us from getting lovey-dovey, and ended up being the reason we got lovey-dovey? That's brilliant. Couldn't have planned it better myself. Remind me to thank her someday."  
  
"Shut up, Spike." She couldn't really fault him for being amused, she herself had laughed long and hard, and rather hysterically, upon finding out what Tara had done. Still, she was entitled. "She thought she saw something, and she wanted to stop it, so she sent me back. Only she screwed up on the time somehow." She pulled away again, and he let her. "Come hunting with me. For the shapeshifter. I found a spell to use on it to stop a spell I think it's using." Sighing heavily, she pulled him out the door with her. "I'll explain on the way."  
  
  
  
(October 2001)  
  
Merle didn't like formal meetings, and this was no exception, but tonight's meeting with the Bosses had him smiling, rather than frowning.  
  
The three of them were seated at a large table in front of him, whispering between themselves, casting him occasional distrusting glances. Especially the girl. And still he didn't care, because, they were pleased with him and his work, and he was pleased with himself. He shifted from one foot to the other, wishing there was a chair to sit in, but of course there wasn't, couldn't let the demons get too comfortable.  
  
"Tara thinks she sent Willow back?" the girl asked from her spot on the right side of the table. She tried so hard not to let her distaste of him show, but as always, failed miserably.  
  
He often wondered if it was her blonde hair, always pulled back in a tight bun, that had her in such a constant sour mood. How else could he explain why such a beautiful young woman was so uptight, and down on demons?  
  
"She does," Merle answered, addressing the group as a whole. "She believes--"  
  
"Thank you," the older man in the middle said, barely even bothering to look at Merle when he spoke.  
  
Once again they whispered amongst themselves while he was left to stand there like a puppy waiting for attention. It galled him to no end that he had to go through this same ritual every time they saw him, but the end results were worth it. He had free reign to do whatever he wanted, so long as it helped their plans along. Chaos was what he wanted, and it was what he did best. Hence them calling on his services.  
  
Merle looked up when the middle guy spoke again. He was older than the other two, his British accent more soft-spoken, but Merle had also seen his temper and knew not to dismiss him out of hand.  
  
"How exactly did you get her to send Willow back?" he asked curiously. Behind that curiosity was a shrewd man that Merle was starting to admire.  
  
He crossed his hands behind his back and stood straighter. "I planted a spell in her room, allowing her to see auras. When she cast the spell, she saw the witch and the vampire as soul mates." He paced a few feet to the left, smiled and paced back again. It'd been quite a coincidence that they actually were soul mates. All he'd had to do was plant the spell for Tara to find, and she'd done the rest on her own. Well, except that little clause he'd added to her time travel spell.  
  
Who'd have guessed the witch and the vampire actually were soul mates? Sure, demons had essences, and those essences fell in love as well as any human soul, and were mated to other demon essences. Sometimes they'd fall in love with humans, but he'd never heard of an instance in which a demon's essence was mated to a human's.  
  
Reigning in his thoughts, he stopped in front of them, holding their complete attention. Just how he liked it. "She panicked, did a spell to send the witch back in time to keep the vampire from being captured by the soldiers."  
  
"Willow," the girl corrected. "Her name, is Willow. Use it." Her voice was tight, her eyes narrowed, and Merle knew she was a stone's throw away from jumping over that table to attack him.  
  
What was going on here? This was the most emotion he'd seen from any of them in the months since they'd hired him. He'd thought them cold, and calculating. After all, weren't they trying to drive the witch-- Willow, insane? Weren't they using him to play with her mind?  
  
Well, that was none of his business. "Willow," he corrected. Things were going too well for him at the moment to put himself on the outs with them.  
  
All traces of pride were absent, but he was damn proud of his work on this job. Everything was going more or less as they wanted it to, and it was all because of him. And now, life was about to become even better for him. If he did his job well, he'd be given a power to choose from, and he had his sights set on invisibility. Could come in handy in those instances when shape-changing didn't.  
  
The third boss shifted in his seat on Merle's left. He was as young as the woman, but not as rude and violent as her. In fact, he had a sense of humor, and he let it show in his personality, unlike the other two. At the moment however, he was looking very grim, as he always was when discussing Willow's state of mind. "Is she losing her grip on reality yet?"  
  
Merle took a deep breath. There is where he had to be careful; things were going well, but not as smoothly or as quickly as maybe they should be. "She's still grounded by the two vampires, and Tara."  
  
"Maybe it's time we took them from her?" the older man suggested, though by his tone of voice, he wanted to do anything but that.  
  
"No," the woman interjected, her forehead furrowed in a frown. Merle was astonished by the pain and compassion he saw in her face before she hid it. She shook her head, her normal blank look back in place. "She needs them. We can't do that to--"  
  
The older man sighed. "I simply wish this to end as quickly as possible." He leaned his arm on the table, rubbing his forehead with his hand as he removed his glasses.  
  
"We know," the younger man said softly. "You think we like this? We have no choice, the deal was--"  
  
"I know what the deal was," the older man snapped, glaring at the younger man. He closed his eyes, deflating just the tiniest bit before squaring his shoulders once again. "I'm sorry." He straightened up, putting his glasses back on. "Merle, do you have any ideas?"  
  
Merle was a bit taken aback. The Bosses were surprising him tonight. He'd thought he knew them after months of dealing with them, but tonight they were showing emotions and traits he hadn't thought they possessed.  
  
Concentrating on the subject at hand, he pretended to think for a minute, as if he hadn't been waiting for the perfect opportunity to bring up Gene. "I have a friend," he said slowly, as if just coming up with the idea, "a Djin. He may be exactly what we need. He wears his victims down slowly, and usually by the time they figure out what's wrong, they're too far gone to care."  
  
"A Djin?" the older man asked in surprise. His eyes narrowed slightly, then widened. "Oh, blast it, of course," he mumbled, before consulting the other two.  
  
There was a long, quiet conversation among the three while Merle stood there, pretending not to try to listen. Finally, after a good ten minutes, they all sat up straight, facing him.  
  
"Call the Djin," the older man said, "only tell him what he needs to know, nothing else."  
  
The younger man frowned, and spoke up slowly, and Merle was sure he heard a lot of anger in his voice. "The Spike from her time isn't exactly on great terms with her, is he?"  
  
Merle shook his head, hoping he wasn't going to be punished for screwing things up with them. "No."  
  
The boy grinned, and Merle could see nothing but satisfaction in his face. "Good."  
  
The older man rolled his eyes in irritation. "Will this be a hindrance for you?" he asked Merle.  
  
"No, not at all. I don't think she'll be apart from him for long," he said thoughtfully. "She's forgiving, seems to be in her nature. I'm sure she'll forgive him quickly."  
  
"You're probably right," the younger man said distastefully. "Unfortunately."  
  
"Xander," the older man bit out, exasperation lacing his voice and his glare. "Will you please stop?"  
  
Merle blinked at them a few times in surprise. This was the first time they'd spoken a name in his presence, though obviously he'd known who they were, since he'd killed them.  
  
"Sorry, Giles," was Xander's reply, but Merle could see he didn't mean it.  
  
"Go," Giles told Merle, shaking his head at the whole situation.  
  
Merle turned and left the room, keeping his whistling to a minimum. Invisibility ability, here I come, he thought.  
  
  
  
(October 2001)  
  
After collecting her dropped bag, Willow and William traipsed through cemetery after cemetery, and came up empty. Well, that wasn't completely true. They'd dusted six vampires, and William had fought, and then lost, a demon. Now, tired and dirty, they headed to her house.  
  
One more night of freedom, Willow thought, pushing through the door. Her parents were due back the next day, and she was going to be hampered by them for a while. At least until the next time they left, which hopefully was--  
  
"Willow, honey, is that you?" a voice called from the hall.  
  
Willow froze with her hand on the doorknob, trying to figure out if it was better to shove William out the door, or turn to face her mother. Whichever she did, it was bound to be awkward, and her mother would wonder why she'd shoved a man out the door. Forcing back an hysterical giggle, she closed her eyes, opened them with a threatening look at William, and turned to face her mother.  
  
"You're home early." She crossed the room and hugged her mom, trying unsuccessfully to hide her just remembered cast. Oops.  
  
Her mom frowned at the cast, and lifted her hands to smooth Willow's hair from her face. Her eyes widened when she saw the bruise on her daughter's jaw. "Dad's meeting ended early. Honey, what happened?" Her glance flickered briefly to William, then back to Willow.  
  
Willow had already come up with a good, plausible lie for her arm, which would also work for the bruises, but, looking her mom in the face and uttering that same lie wasn't as easy as she'd thought it would be. "Oh, I, um, set my bag on the stairs a few nights ago, and when I came down in the morning..." she lifted her arm, and shrugged. "Don't read and walk."  
  
Sheila nodded, satisfied with her answer, and even smiled a little. "You've always got your nose stuck in a book," she said with a chuckle, then turned her full attention to William. "Willow, aren't you going to introduce your friend?"  
  
Willow was stuck in such a weird place at the moment, that she didn't think she'd ever be normal again. "Oh, right. Manners. Mom, this is Sp-- uh..."  
  
Her mom turned a disapproving look on her, obviously thinking she didn't know his name.  
  
Willow turned red, biting her lip to keep from laughing. Her mom thought she was bringing stray men home to have sex with? Oh, boy. "This is Will--"  
  
"William," said vampire interrupted, moving forward to take her mom's hand. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Rosenberg. Willow's told me so much about you."  
  
She shook his hand, then folded her own in front of her. "Nice to meet you, William. I don't believe I've seen you around. Were you a friend of Buffy's?" she asked politely.  
  
Willow stared at William trying to figure out where that soft, Giles-like accent had come from. "No, he isn't-- wasn't, a friend of hers." Had to remember that past tense thing. The dead thing. The all-your-friends-were-killed-by-a-murdering-demon thing.  
  
Her mom nodded sadly, but she was clearly confused about something. "Willow, honey, what happened to Tara? Did you two break up?" She turned a concerned look toward Willow.  
  
Her mom knew she-- and Tara-- and... oh, God. Her face was flaming so bright, her skin so hot, she started fanning herself with her hand, ignoring William's not-so innocent look turned her way. "Yeah, Mom. We did."  
  
Sheila sighed, hugging her daughter with one arm. "It'll get better, dear. With time." She frowned suddenly, and looked from William to Willow. "Oh, wait. Are you and William...? Did your Father and I interrupt something? Do you two want to be alone?"  
  
Willow lost it. She started laughing so hard she couldn't breathe. "This is the most surreal conversation I have *ever* had," she gasped, laughing even more at the lost look on her mother's face. "I'm going to go out there," she pointed to the front door, "and I'm taking William with me. But we're not going to have sex, so you can relax, Mom." Giggling madly, she grabbed William's hand and dragged him with her out the door.  
  
Once out there, she plopped down on the front stoop with a few more chuckles.  
  
William sat beside her, also still chuckling. "That was..." he stopped to clear his throat, "nice mum ya got there, love."  
  
Willow shook her head with a laugh. "All my life she's absent, then she shows up to burn me at the stake, and embarrass me by talking about sex, and Tara, and-- and who even knew she knew about us? Guess she's not as unobservant as I always thought."  
  
"Most people aren't. We just pretend to be." He waggled his eyebrows at her comically. "All those research sessions I was at? I spent most of the time pretending not to pay attention, but I heard every word, saw every gesture."  
  
She looked at him skeptically. "Liar."  
  
He shrugged, leaning back on his elbows. "That pale yellow shirt of yours with the red sun on it? If the light's right, you can see right through it. Buffy's skirts allowed glimpses of a lot more though, and--"  
  
She slapped his leg as hard as she could. "You jerk. The whole time you were at Giles', you were ogling us? You're a pervert."  
  
He shrugged again as he lit a cigarette. "Comes with the being a vampire part. Think Angel didn't ogle? He ogled. Believe me, all the things Angelus used to yap on about weren't just stories."  
  
"Okay, stop," she insisted. "Angel is just not someone I want to hear about like that. He, and his peeping, need to be between you and him. Please." She laughed at the disgruntled look he tossed her, but didn't relent. It was too yucky to contemplate. She leaned back, gazing up at the star-filled sky, enjoying the breeze on her face. Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply.  
  
A pair of lips settled over hers, startling her. Tobacco tasting lips.  
  
Not bothering to open her eyes, she sighed and pulled away. "Spike."  
  
"Mmm-hmm," was his reply, once again against her lips.  
  
She opened her eyes, staring at him in amusement. "You need to stop smoking. It really tastes gross."  
  
He smacked his lips together with a grin. "Tastes fine to me." He leaned back again, pointedly taking a drag off his cigarette, and blowing the smoke straight up into the air above them. "Nummy."  
  
She chuckled softly, wondering why she was so infatuated with him. He was a killer again. He'd probably even spent last night hunting and killing. "Where'd you stay last night?"  
  
"My crypt. Why? You miss me in your bed?" He leered at her, smirked, leered some more, and just generally made it known that he'd like to be there again.  
  
"What are we doing?" she wondered aloud. This wasn't a relationship, it was a weird... thing, between a vampire and a witch. Two people who used to hate each other. Until very recently, Spike--this Spike--had hated her. But now, she thought she might be falling in love with him. Did he feel anything for her? Anything more than mere lust?  
  
"Looks like we're sittin' on your porch, avoiding your parents," was Spike's overly simplistic answer.  
  
She rolled her eyes at him. "That's not what I meant. I was talking about--"  
  
"I know what you meant," he sighed. "But, I don't have answers anymore than you do. This whole thing started as a way to--"  
  
"To what?" she asked, turning to face him. Something told her she didn't want to hear the answer, but her curiosity just wouldn't let it rest.  
  
He looked into her face for a brief second, before looking away uncomfortably. "To avoid falling for the Slayer, but now..."  
  
Spike's words came back to her from what felt like years ago, but was only a short while ago; 'I'm pretty sure that telling William about Buffy was a bad idea. I think he's decided to replace her with you.'  
  
"Right. I remember Spike saying something like that." She shrugged as if it was no big deal, but her heart was hurting, and tears were trying to fall from her eyes. What had she expected, she thought to herself, declarations of love?  
  
"It started out that way, but it's not like that anymore." He frowned at her when she didn't reply right away.  
  
After a minute, she nodded, getting to her feet. "It doesn't matter. This whole thing between us was wrong from the start, but now, with the chip no longer working, it's not just wrong, it's stupid."  
  
Spike stood as well, tossing his cigarette to the sidewalk. "It's not wrong, and it's not stupid, Willow." He ran his hands through his hair in agitation. "Yeah, I went out last night, but what the bloody hell did you expect? It's how I survive. You think living off that pig's blood is what I want to do for the rest of my life?" He snorted derisively, shaking his head at her. "I found myself a nice college student to snack on, hunted her like I haven't done in so long, and..."  
  
"Killed her?" she asked harshly. "Yay for you. Hope it was everything you remembered."  
  
"Yes I killed her," he said angrily. "I had here there, bleeding and dying, and I felt whole again. It's what I am, Willow, I hunt, I feed, and I kill. I'm not a bloody lap dog with a leash. But that doesn't mean we can't be together." He took her by the arms, and pulled her to him, but she yanked out of his grip.  
  
"See that's the problem I'm having." She paced a few feet away, putting some distance between them. "You have no idea how wrong it is to kill. It's normal behavior for you, but it's not for me. And I can't live with other people's deaths on my conscience. And if you stop killing because I ask you to--and I would have to ask you to--you'll resent me..." seeing the look he tossed her, she amended her words. "You already resent me. What kind of a relationship is that? A nonexistent one," she answered for him.  
  
"It doesn't matter right now. Can't we just enjoy it and worry about the practical parts later?" he asked, grinding his teeth when she shook her head. "I'm not giving up on this, damn it, I want you. You want me. We can damn well--" he grabbed her arms again, yanking her to him.  
  
"Let go," she ordered him, smacking him in the chest with her cast when he tightened his grip on her arms. "Spike, stop it. What are you going to do, kill me in a fit of anger? Just snap my neck, and drain me dry? Yeah, that's a relationship that'll work," she said sarcastically.  
  
"I bloody well wouldn't do that to you," he hissed, shoving her away from him.  
  
"Yeah, well you just did one hell of a job of not hurting me," she said harshly, rubbing her sore arms. A few tears slipped out unabated, and she swiped at them impatiently, turning away from him. "Spike, I can't do this anymore. I-- I think I'm falling in love with you, and I know it's not going to end well. It never does."  
  
Hearing nothing from Spike, she turned with an angry retort on her lips. The least he could do is acknowledge her declaration. Instead of finding a speechless, or even angry, vampire, she was faced with an empty porch. She immediately dropped her eyes to the cement, searching for a pile of dust, but thankfully, found none.  
  
Well, what the hell? Had he left? Or-- oh. He probably went back to his own time. She hoped. That would help things considerably. She could resist her Spike, since there was nothing between them.  
  
Except that one night of sex, her mind tossed back at her.  
  
Well, that was easy enough to deal with, she'd just avoid him completely, and if she did happen to run into the jerk, she'd pretend it hadn't happened, the same as he was doing.  
  
Heading back into the house with a sigh, she realized she still needed to find the shapeshifter to reverse the spell, and with her parents back, it wasn't going to be easy.  
  
  
  
Spike watched as Willow shut the door behind her, then turned away with a sigh, walking back to his crypt. His empty crypt. If her parents weren't home, he'd be in there with her right now.  
  
Seeing her and William standing on the porch together, all touchy-feely, and tender sweet, had pissed him off to no end, but he'd forced himself to stay where he was, even as William grabbed her. Maybe she'd finally see him for the ass he was, maybe she'd come running to him, the Spike that actually cared about her. But, she hadn't. And instead of getting to beat William a few times for being the ass taking Willow away from him, the vampire had disappeared, back to his own time.  
  
Spike was just all broke up about it too.  
  
He sighed again as he entered his crypt. Looked like it was just him and his beer tonight. 


	16. What Comes part16

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Fox, and Twentieth Century and whoever else has rights to it. I don't, more's the pity, but they do. No money is being made by me on this.  
  
Author's Note: This starts after season 5... and is rather AU. It has spoilers for basically all of season 4 and some of 5. I'm a Spike/Willow 'shipper, and this story is W/S. Also, this is a work in progress. I've been working on it for nearly two years now, and it's still not done, but I'm getting there. It's very long, and involed. Please hang in there, and don't give up on me if I don't update regularly. Reviews would be most welcome.  
  
Another Note: If you read this when I first posted it, you'll need to read it again to understand some of it. I've added a lot to previously posted chapters, and I couldn't begin to tell you which ones have new stuff, and which ones don't. Sorry.  
  
Dedicated: To my beta, Claudia, you rock! You all should thank her for getting more of this story.  
  
  
  
PART 16  
  
(October 2001)  
  
After a good night's sleep, actually done during the night, Willow woke up and cleaned house. Demons and vampires and evil creatures of the night, she could handle, but the monotonous, not to mention, dusty, job of cleaning house had her wanting to run screaming.  
  
A nice lunch with her parents followed the morning session of cleaning, then came the afternoon cleaning, and dinner. By the time dinner was finished, Willow was ready to take a shower and fall into bed. The shower part happened, but not the sleep part. Shapeshifters were out there waiting to be captured by her. Even if she was sore and tired and only had one good arm. She still needed to be out there.  
  
Her friends' lives depended on it. But it was impossible for her to accomplish anything on her own. She considered asking Tara to come along, but she couldn't do that. She couldn't endanger her like that. Not to mention the just having broken up part.  
  
With a groan, she realized she was going to have to ask Spike for help. So, she shoved her pride and hurt way down deep, and went to his crypt. It was still light out when she knocked on the door, waiting for him to answer.  
  
It only took him a minute to open the door. And, as usual, he was shirtless, and a cigarette was dangling from his lips. The annoyed look was also there. When he saw her, he stepped back, looking slightly less annoyed. "If this is about William, I already know."  
  
She went in, shutting the door behind her with a thunk. "It's not about him. It's about us. Specifically, the night you joined me in bed and bit me."  
  
He hopped up on his bed, watching her through narrowed eyes. "What about it?"  
  
She walked over to him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, actually, it's the sex part that has me pissed. But, you know, that's just me." Wow, she'd just... laid that right out there, hadn't she? "William told me what you said, and I want you to know right now that I'm very not okay with you at the moment."  
  
"Then why are you here?" he asked, his face a mask of nothingness. He took a slow, unhurried drag off his cigarette, watching her closely.  
  
She turned away with a frown. Why wasn't he trying to deny it? "Unfortunately, I need your help catching the shapeshifter. I'd go to Willy's and pay someone to help me, but--"  
  
"You bloody well will not," Spike yelled, grabbing her by the arms much the same as William had the night before. Her bruised flesh wasn't too happy about being touched again, and neither was she.  
  
Before she could yank herself out of his grip, he dropped his hands from her arms and frowned down at them. Take away her anger-fun, she thought with a pout.  
  
"I don't feel like being manhandled all night, so--" she stopped when he continued to stare at his hands. "What, did I give you cooties or something?" she asked sarcastically.  
  
He shook his head, dropping his hands to his sides. "Well, you should be very happy to know that the chip is once again in working order." His voice was bitter and angry.  
  
To say she was happy was an understatement. One bad factor had been taken out of the equation, and she could at least feel safe around him again. And, yay, William's was probably working again too, which meant, no dead people on her conscience in the past. She *was* happy, but she didn't like that he was unhappy about it. "I'm sorry. For you," she stressed, "but not for the rest of the human population. Having a friend who kills people? Not a good thing."  
  
"I haven't killed anyone human in a long time. Just because the chip was inactive doesn't mean I ran right out and killed a bunch of people."  
  
He sounded angry, and she guessed she could understand that, because she had expected him to do just that. Both him and William. William had, of course, but Spike hadn't. That was a pleasant surprise, but it didn't mean he was suddenly a hunky-dory person. Especially since he wasn't a person. He was a mean, evil, sometimes helpful demon.  
  
"Well... good," was all she could think to say. Moving back to the original conversation, she sighed and sat on the arm of his chair. "The sex thing I'm guessing, was a result of mistaken identity or something, and at the moment I don't... well, yes I do care." She looked down at her hands, not wanting to see his face when he told her it was just a big mistake. "Why did you do it?"  
  
She heard him take a deep breath and let it out slowly, but she didn't look up.  
  
"I was with Dru for over a century. You know that?" he asked idly, not waiting for her to answer.  
  
Now she did look up, but his eyes weren't on her, they were far away, in the past. Sitting in the chair, she watched him silently, letting him have his say.  
  
"She was everything I ever wanted or needed. Everything that my world consisted of. She was the reason for me being. I loved her like I never loved anyone. As a human or a demon." He sighed, anger showing a little in his sharp gesture to the town around them. "Then we came here, and suddenly I was too human for her. Too weak, not demon enough. Not monster enough."  
  
Not for the first time, Willow wondered how Dru could not love Spike. She herself was falling in love with him. She could admit that now. Maybe not completely head over heels yet, so deep that she'd never crawl back out again, but she was getting there.  
  
"Then there was Buffy," he continued, snapping her out of her musings. "And suddenly *she* was everything I wanted. What I needed. But for her, I wasn't human enough. I was too much of a demon; too much of a monster." He paused, staring at the wall behind her. "The night we fought Glory, she invited me in. Looked right at me and invited me in." His brow furrowed at the memory. "We might've all been going off to die that night, so I had to tell her. Tell her she made me feel like a man, not a monster."  
  
Willow waited for him to continue, not wanting to push him. He had a point, and he would get to it eventually.  
  
"She was halfway up the stairs. I remember it like it was yesterday." A small smile lifted his mouth. "She stopped and turned around, giving me this *look*. Like she wasn't sure what to say, or do... wasn't sure what I expected from her. I didn't expect anything at that point. That she treated me like a man was enough." His smile disappeared. No doubt he was remembering Buffy, and everything that happened that night. "But it wasn't enough. I realized that after you brought her back."  
  
Hoping to lighten the mood slightly, she tossed out helpfully, "What about Harmony?"  
  
He snorted, looking at her like she'd said the dumbest thing in the world, and shook the long ashes off his cigarette. "Harmony never satisfied anything except physical needs." His grin, the one that made Willow's knees weak, suddenly appeared. "And sometimes she didn't even--"  
  
Blush and disgusted look firmly in place, Willow looked down, away from him. "Okay, there *is* such a thing as too much information." His chuckles had her rolling her eyes.  
  
"Anyway," he continued, the laughter no longer present in his voice, "when Dru came back last year, I was tempted to go with her. So bloody tempted. I wanted nothing more than to be with her again. Just the two of us, cutting a bloody swath across the world. No Angel, no Angelus, no Buffy," his voice was angry, and she had a feeling he blamed Buffy for him not being able to do it. "No Scooby Gang, no Watcher, no Dawn." He sighed deeply, dropping his cigarette to the floor. "None of you bloody little do-gooders to run into at every turn. God, I wanted it so badly."  
  
This was something she'd never known about. All he or Buffy would say was that Dru had come to town for Spike and then left when he refused to go with her. She hadn't known about his inner struggle and continuing hate of them. "Why didn't you--"  
  
His eyes shot to hers as he jumped down from the sarcophagus and stamped out his still smoking cigarette. "I wanted more," he said angrily. "More than Dru, can you believe that? She was my dark goddess, my princess. But she wasn't enough for me anymore. I craved more than her and her insanity. More than her hollow looks and platitudes. She didn't love me, not like I loved her, so I couldn't do it. Couldn't go with her and do what I wanted to do more than anything else at that point. And one of the reasons was standing there, chained up, glaring at me, telling me to kill Dru, but making sure I knew it didn't mean anything to her. I hated Buffy more in that moment than at any other time I think. Loved her more too."  
  
Willow could only stare at him. He was telling her more than she'd ever wanted to know. More than she needed to know. Why was he telling her all this? That Dru and Buffy were the two loves of his life, and she was, what, an insignificant thing to have sex with? Like Harmony? Someone to satisfy his needs? She didn't want to hear anymore, but she couldn't stop him due to the tightness in her chest, and the tears threatening to fall.  
  
"Buffy. God," he said self-deprecatingly, "could I have picked a worse person to fall in love with? Probably not. But I did. Love her, I mean. After she died that night, with Glory, I thought I was going to die too. This hurt was worse than it ever was with Dru, just because I knew Dru was walking around somewhere." He laughed dryly. "Probably got herself a harem by now. She wasn't always the most loyal demon," he confided, as if she didn't know Dru had taken up with Angelus the moment he showed up. Didn't know how much she hurt him, enough to make him cry on Willow's shoulder one night. She didn't tell him that, just nodded sympathetically. She didn't have to fake the sad smile.  
  
"But, I didn't die, right? Went on living. Even got on rather well with you all, helped the world a little. Took out the evil in Sunnydale, and got to be there when you brought her back."  
  
His angry eyes bore into hers, and she was once again back on solid ground. She knew this anger, she knew what this was about. Straightening her back, she looked right at him, not flinching the slightest bit. "I'd do it again if I could. In fact, William's supposed to--"  
  
"Supposed to what?" he demanded, stalking closer to her. "What did you do?" His eyes were haunted and angry.  
  
She shook her head dismissively. "Nothing. I just told him about the shapeshifter, and how to keep it from happening again."  
  
He stared at her for a few seconds before nodding, satisfied.  
  
"You should be happy, you'll be getting Buffy back. Again." She laughed humorlessly, blinking back tears. "Third time's a charm, right?"  
  
He turned away with a shrug. "Doesn't matter. I don't want Buffy anymore. Well, no, that's a lie. I still want her, still love her. But my mind knows it's not enough anymore. She's not enough."  
  
Wow, this just got worse and worse. He didn't want to want Buffy, but he did. He still loved her, still wanted her. Even after having just slept with Willow. Fighting back the feelings of worthlessness, she sighed and asked the question that'd been weighing on her mind since the moment William told her about them. "What does this have to do with me?"  
  
"I'm not a loner. I hate being alone, in fact. Hate it with a bloody passion about covers it. That's why I got into bed with you. That's why I didn't stop you when you kissed me. Why I wanted it to go further than a few simple, chaste kisses."  
  
"So you used me because you hate being alone?" Okay, that was not what she'd expected. A small amount of like or affection being admitted to yes, but pure loneliness driving him to have sex with someone just because she was near and receptive? No, that had never entered her mind. "Great," she said trying not to let her anger show, "everything's all explained away. Can we go now? I'd like to find the shapeshifter and get home. My parents might realize I'm gone, and I'd like that not to happen." She pushed past him, heading out the door, almost positive she hadn't been able to keep her anger a secret.  
  
"It wasn't just loneliness," he said softly, shutting the door behind them as they headed into the cemetery. "You're the--"  
  
"Wait a minute," she said, coming to a dead stop, having just now realized what he'd said. "What do you mean, when *I* kissed *you*? I didn't..." she trailed off, not sure he wasn't telling the truth. It was very likely she had kissed him. She had, after all, been dreaming about William. But it wasn't a dream. It was reality, and it was what had happened. There'd been no dream-part to it at all. "I kissed you?"  
  
He chuckled, not unkindly, and nudged her arm. "Yeah. But I wasn't exactly blameless either," he said magnanimously.  
  
"Darn straight you're not," she mumbled with a little less fire than before. What if he hadn't wanted to do anything with her, but didn't want to hurt her feelings, so he'd just... oh, please, she scoffed, he had pity sex with a partially sleeping girl to keep from hurting her feelings? An evil vampire sparing her feelings? Uh-huh, made all the sense in the world. Not.  
  
Besides, he'd admitted to being lonely, so obviously he wasn't adverse to it. Still, what was the reasoning behind that whole long speech he'd just given her over the merits of Dru and Buffy?  
  
"So," she began slowly, not sure she wanted to know the answer anymore, but not able to keep herself from asking. "Not that I didn't enjoy that trip down memory lane, which I didn't, but, was there a reason behind it? A point maybe?" She turned her eyes up to his, pleased to see a smile rather than a scowl.  
  
He looked up at the night sky. The sun had only set a few minutes before, during their conversation. No stars were out yet, no moon. But apparently it held a lot of fascination for him. "Yeah. I was explaining why I didn't want Dru or Buffy anymore."  
  
The exasperation she felt wasn't well hidden behind her rolled eyes. "And that would be because...?" she encouraged.  
  
"They left me wanting more." He shrugged, like they were talking about a football game rather than his love life. "You don't. You *are* the more, Willow."  
  
She was positive her heart stopped beating in that instant. Positive, because her feet stopped working, and she tripped over nothing, and he was walking on, oblivious to her staring after him in shock and amazement and mouthing the words, 'Oh my God'.  
  
Finally, after a good thirty seconds she felt something thumping in her chest, and was relieved to find her heart once again in working order. Though her thoughts were anything but. He was still walking ahead of her, as if he hadn't just said the most romantic thing she'd ever heard. And to her, no less.  
  
  
  
(????)  
  
Merle was once again standing before the Bosses, but this time, there was no anger aimed his way, it was all directed toward the warlock that'd just appeared.  Merle's skin was still crawling just beneath the surface from the magical arrival, and the evil pouring off of the man standing regally between him and the table with the Bosses.  
  
"You know what the deal was," the warlock told the three figures seated at the table.  "And, as yet, I've seen no sign of my witch running toward the nearest insane asylum.  Time's running short."  
  
Buffy, looking like she was fighting all her Slayer instincts, sat ramrod straight, not making the smallest move to attack the man, though it was obvious to everyone present that she very much wanted to.  "She isn't your *anything*," she ground out through clenched teeth.  
  
Giles, trying to ease tensions, placed his hand warningly on the slayer's shoulder and addressed the warlock.  "We know the deal.  Why are you here--"  
  
But the slayer just couldn't stop herself from interrupting her Watcher.  "We still have two months.  Aren't you jumping the gun a little?"  
  
Merle's eyes widened at her defiance in the face of such a powerful being.  Evil absolutely flowed off of him in waves that battered Merle like a ship at sea.  He himself wasn't exactly a card carrying member for the side of good anymore, but he was nowhere near as bad as this guy.  Was Mother Theresa compared to him, in fact.  
  
Everything about the warlock was long, tall, and thin. He stood with his hands behind his back, and his head tilted to the side, looking regal, and imperious.  The long, flowing brown cloak that touched the floor to pool around his feet only added to the image.  His long brown hair was tied back with a leather thong; quite the stereotypical look for a warlock.  
  
Instead of answering the slayer, his intense brown eyes, the most prominent feature in his long, unremarkable face, turned to Merle, focusing on him enough to make him nervous.  
  
"Do you think this boy can get the job done?" he asked the trio at the table.  
  
Merle's back straightened and he had to force himself not to pummel the man.  It probably wouldn't do a bit of good, since he wasn't actually there.  The image in front of them was just a magical projection.  Still, he seriously wanted to hurt the guy.  "I'll get the job done," he answered tightly.  
  
"That remains to be seen," the warlock taunted, dismissing him from his attention.  He strode over to the table, facing the three seated occupants.  "Four months is all I'll give you.  Two of those are gone, and another is quickly going by.  If..." he paused, staring down the slayer, "my witch, is not at least approaching insanity by the time the third month is through, I'll--"  
  
"You'll nothing!" Giles yelled, standing up and leaning over the table as he slammed his hand down.  The sound echoed throughout the hollow chamber, startling all present, aside from the warlock.  Giles took a deep, steadying breath and sat back down, straightening his shirt as he did so.  "We have two months left, and you'll do nothing until then, you bloody bastard.  Get out."  His voice was authoritative and unyielding.  
  
The warlock burst out laughing as if he'd been entertained by an amusing play.  "You have no authority over me, Rupert.  I control everything.  If you'd like to save your precious charge's soul, you'll stop ordering those around you who are not under your control.  Careful, or I'll take a month's time away from you."  
  
"You can't do that," Xander said angrily, standing up beside Giles, who'd once again jumped to his feet.  Xander looked very much like he wanted to beat on the warlock.  In fact they all did.  Buffy stood up next to her Watcher and the three of them stared him down.  
  
The warlock wasn't cowed in the least.  He was still smiling, and shaking his head, tossing Merle a look as if to say, 'what can you do?'.  Not wanting to find out, Merle stayed silent.  This wasn't his fight... well, not technically.  
  
"I can do that and more," the warlock countered.  "Contract's are meant to be broken."  
  
"Not this one," Giles said smugly, smirking at the warlock.  All of them were smirking now, and Merle had the presence of mind to back away a bit, hoping not to be caught in the melee about to take place.  "Anya!" he called loudly, "perhaps you could join us now?"  
  
Merle's eyes widened when the blond shopgirl he'd killed a few months back emerged from a door behind the trio.  Behind her was the other girl, the kid.  Alive and well and here.  He'd actually known about the still being alive part, it was the here part he hadn't known about.  Seeing all his victims of one night's mass murder in one room, thankfully not paying him any attention, was a little disconcerting.  
  
Anya joined Xander, standing to one side of him and wrapping an arm around his waist as she laid a stack of papers on the table in front of them.  Dawn joined her sister on the other side.  
  
"You see, Rin," Giles said, "you may have covered your ass by hiding your location from us, keeping us from finding you, and quite frankly, killing you, but we too have covered our asses.  The contract you signed wasn't a simple contract; it's bound with magick."  
  
Merle sucked in a breath at the fury showing on Rin's face, and wondered if magically projecting warlocks could kill with a simple look.  
  
"That's impossible," Rin bit out angrily.  "I'd have felt any magick within a mile radius.  You're lying," he decided, smiling again.  
  
"'Fraid not," Buffy said equally as smugly as her Wtcher, crossing her arms over her chest.  "Anya here has a friend who knows someone who knows someone, yadda, yadda.  Bottom line, Rin?  You're bound just as much as we are."  She leaned forward, wrapping a protective arm around her sister.  "And I like that very much."  
  
Rin glared at them all, spluttering.  "You have two months," he shouted, spinning in a circle and disappearing in a cloud of blue smoke.  
  
The hall was silent for a few seconds before shouts and laughter erupted.  "Kick ass," Dawn said triumphantly.  
  
"Yes," Giles agreed with a smile, then turned to Merle.  "Call in the Djin fellow, I believe it's time."  All smiles slipped away, once again replaced by solemn looks.  "And if that doesn't work," he said into the ensuing silence, "we'll have to take Spike from her."   
  
  
  
(November 2001)  
  
Willow's steps slowed the closer she got to Xander's grave. She'd been by this grave, and all the others', numerous times since their deaths, feeling nothing more than a sense of loss and regret. Now, over a month later, it was time to grieve. To say goodbye.  
  
She'd already been to the other cemeteries, said goodbye to Buffy and Dawn. Giles had a small marker beside Buffy's, but he wasn't there. His body had been sent for by the Watcher's Council, and returned to England. Willow was happy he'd gone back to England, she knew he'd missed it a lot more than he ever let on. Anya was here, in the same cemetery as Xander, but not beside him. She'd been buried simply as Anya Emerson. No other words adorned her small marker, since she was a former demon with no past to speak of.  
  
She took a deep breath and made her way to Xander's grave. That stupid spell she'd done had taken something from her. She'd thought to simply control her emotions and concentrate on finding the demon that did it, but in doing so, she'd done a disservice to her friends, and never truly said goodbye to them. Deep down, she still had her hopes pinned on Past Spike, but as nothing had changed yet, and they were no closer to finding the demon to undo the dampening spell, those hopes were fading.  
  
She stopped for a minute, standing in the sunshine before taking those last few steps into the shade where Xander was buried. It was a good spot. He had a tree all to himself, and a marble angel overlooking him from a nearby mausoleum.  
  
"Even now you've got an angel to contend with," she chuckled through a sob. Kneeling down in front of his headstone, she ducked her head, ashamed of herself for not visiting him even once since his death. She threaded her hands through the grass, not sure how to start. So she didn't. Just being there, and thinking about him, remembering him, was enough for now.  
  
After a few minutes, she sighed, and reached out to touch his headstone. "I'm so sorry for not coming sooner, but I did something really stupid, with magick, and it's all fixed now, and I'm here, but... I'm sorry."  
  
Tears slipped from her eyes as she laid down beside the mound of dirt her friend was buried in. She rested her hand atop the new grass, and closed her eyes. "I miss you, Xander."  
  
  
  
(November 2001)  
  
Willow dropped to the ground, dodging the fist headed for her face. The vampire didn't even pause. His other hand shot out, grabbing a handful of her hair. She yelled in pain and surprise when he yanked her up solely by her hair, and threw her backwards. She landed in a heap by a headstone, thanking all sorts of powers for not having landed *on* the headstone.  
  
Spike, however, wasn't as lucky. He went sailing past her, landing with a painful thump on a headstone behind her. Being a vampire, he was up almost immediately, charging the two vampires. He ran headlong into both of them. All three bodies fell to the ground amid snarls and growls.  
  
Willow sat up with a grunt, watching as first one body, then another exploded into dust. Thankfully Spike wasn't one of them. He fell backwards, collapsing on the ground with a loud sigh.  
  
"That makes six vampires and two demons. All in one night. You definitely stay home from now on," he told her. "I don't know how Buffy did it." He rolled his head to the side, looking at her. "No offense, love, but you hinder more than help."  
  
Willow's back straightened and her eyes flashed fire. At least, they would have if she wasn't so sore and tired. "I'm not a hinderer. I helped Buffy a lot. We all did." She crawled over to where he lay, and collapsed beside him. "Speaking of Buffy... it's been well over a month... have you heard anything about a new Slayer?"  
  
Spike shook his head wearily. "From who? The one vampire in the next town over that hasn't heard what a traitor I've become?"  
  
She patted his arm sympathetically. "Where do you think she is then? The new Slayer, I mean."  
  
Spike shrugged. "Watcher's Council probably sent her somewhere else."  
  
Willow thought about it for a minute. "Would they really do that? Send her somewhere other than where a big ole Hellmouth is? That doesn't make sense."  
  
"They've got--had--two slayers who didn't play by their rules. They lost face with not only Buffy and Faith, but also with Giles."  
  
Willow yawned and rolled onto her side. She wanted to curl up against Spike, but didn't dare to. After their conversation last week, they'd avoided all topics leading to what they felt. Avoided almost all touching, but for the smallest gestures. Nothing was resolved, but it wasn't unresolved either. It made sense to her in her head, but when she tried to explain it in words, it just didn't make any sense at all. Still, she'd found it harder and harder to stay on topic when she was around him. Found it hard to keep her thoughts in line.  
  
She sighed, annoyed at herself for once again letting those thoughts sneak in. "Or, there is no new slayer."  
  
Spike rolled onto his side as well, facing her and raising onto one elbow. "Why not? One dies, the next is called and all that. That's how it works."  
  
"Well, yeah. But, Buffy died once already, maybe there aren't any more after that. Otherwise, the Watcher's Council, being the wankers that they are, probably would've pulled a Flatliners." Seeing his confused look, she explained, "Keeping some Slayers on life support, killing them and then bringing them back to life again. They could make an army like that."  
  
Spike grinned. "Wankers? You've been hanging around me too long. Wait a sec, did you say Buffy died once before?"  
  
"Uh-huh. The Master killed her. It was in a prophecy and everything. The Anointed One led her to The Master, The Master bit her, then threw her face down in a pool of water. She drowned."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. "The Anointed One... that bloody little bastard. Glad I killed him when I first got to town."  
  
Willow snorted. "Yeah, it's not like you ever tried to kill her. Or me. Or--"  
  
Spike cleared his throat, talking over her. "So, how'd she survive then?"  
  
"Xander and Angel found her. Xander did CPR on her. That's how Kendra was called."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Kendra? Tall, beautiful, Jamaican--or something--accent? Helped drop an organ on you... the one that Drusilla killed?"  
  
He nodded, finally getting who she was talking about. "Right, right. Should've said that last bit first. What's with the anger?"  
  
She chanced a quick look at him. He'd admitted it no more than a few days ago; Dru was still someone he loved. Would he applaud her? Smile and beam with pride for his princess?  
  
Her voice, when she finally responded, was void of emotion. "While you were off making nice with Buffy, your precious Dru was busy killing Kendra, kidnapping Giles for Angelus to torture, and giving Xander the first of many casts on his arm. You may have a soft spot for her, but I don't." Well, not completely devoid of emotion, a little had slipped in there despite her best efforts.  
  
But, Spike hardly seemed to notice it, he was too busy smiling reminiscently. "Dru always did like big to do's. Never did anything small. So, where were you while all that was going on?"  
  
She shrugged. "Up in the stacks, under a bookcase. Happily ensconced in coma-land."  
  
He sighed and shook his head. "I'm glad you're not dead. Good thing I didn't know, I'd probably have--"  
  
"Finished me off in the hospital, or cheered Dru on as she killed me?" she interrupted dryly.  
  
He grinned unabashedly. "Yeah. Sounds about right." And then, completely going against their unspoken rule about touching, he caught her hand as she playfully pushed at him. As if that weren't enough, he went even further and wrapped his own hand around hers, twining their fingers as he kissed the back of her hand, his cool lips pressing lightly against her flesh.  
  
It was on the tip of her tongue to chastise him, and yank her hand back, but she was a little busy shivering at the feel of his lips on her skin. She tossed a hasty glance at him, hoping he hadn't seen her reaction. He had. She was caught by his stare. Was this it then? The moment she'd been waiting for since he'd made her heart stop?  
  
Was she about to find out what he wanted from her? Seeing his eyes so focused on hers, she could almost imagine she saw desire there, but, no, it was just amusement.  
  
Pulling her hand from his, she stood up. "Come on, old man, let's go." The moment was over, so she felt safe in holding her hand out to him to help him up. It was a very clinical thing to do.  
  
He took her hand, yanking her down to his level. "Here now, who you calling 'old man'?" he growled at her.  
  
She pushed him backwards, and he pulled her with him, and suddenly, oh God, she was laying on top of him. What about the rules? she wanted to yell at him, but she couldn't say a thing to save her life.  
  
Or her heart.  
  
The next thing she knew, they were in one of those cartoon-ish situations that you think never happen in real life.  
  
Nervous with the closeness, and the feelings shooting through her from contact with him, she tried to push herself away from him, but she forgot to put her hands on the ground beside him, and ended up pressing down on his stomach. He shot up in surprise, dislodging her from her kneeling position. She fell forward, hitting Spike's forehead with her own.  
  
The moment no longer fraught with desire and longing, she giggled madly, unable to hold back when faced with his scowl. His scowl deepened, and she laughed harder.  
  
"Just what's so funny, love? Hmm?" he asked, a devilish grin curling his lips. "This?" He tickled her sides until she was left gasping. "Or maybe this." He rolled them over, held her arms above her head in one hand, being careful of the one in the cast, while trailing his fingers down the inside of her arm. She shivered, giggling even more. "Ticklish, love? Ah, that's too bad," he teased, "because, as you know, I'm all about torture."  
  
Willow tried to get her arms free, but he wouldn't let her. "Spike," she giggled, "Stop. Please." She raised her knees behind him, hoping to dislodge him. He was pushed further forward, and she sucked in a breath at the intimate contact.  
  
Suddenly, he leaned over, and she was afraid that he was going to kiss her, and equally afraid he wouldn't. She knew that if he did, she wouldn't be able to deny him, to stop him. To pretend she didn't care. But he didn't kiss her. He put his hand over her mouth and looked past her.  
  
"Quiet," he whispered, his lips touching her ear. She shivered, mentally cursing her body for being so pathetic. If ever there was a time not to be turned on by Spike, it was now. She tried to move, in order to look behind her, but Spike held her still, his yellow eyes practically glowing in the dark. A shiver of fear worked its way through her.  
  
His eyes snapped to hers, then back to the darkness around them. A noise to her left drew his attention and he climbed off of her. Willow admired him as he moved stealthily toward the trees. He once again reminded her of a panther, bringing back memories of William, and the first time they'd made love. No, she corrected, had sex. They'd had sex. She and Tara had made love. She and Oz had made love. She and William had had sex.  
  
And most definitely, she and Spike had had sex.  
  
Spike slipped into the darkness, disappearing like the good little creature of the night he was, only to return a minute later, shrugging. "Nothing there. Must've been a cat or something."  
  
"Oh." She stood up, wondering if he'd faked the noise just to get away from her. She straightened her clothes, brushing the grass and leaves off. "Another night, another waste of time. We're never going to find the shapeshifter. Not until it wants us to anyway. That stupid location spell doesn't work worth a damn." A thought hit her, and she chuckled humorlessly. "Not that we would know how to kill it if we did run into it."  
  
Spike slung his arm around her shoulders and grinned down at her. "I ever tell you you're a pessimist, Willow?"  
  
"Aww, thanks, Spike. I ever tell you you're the sweetest vampire I've ever met?"  
  
"Bite your tongue, Witch." He hooked a thumb at himself, giving her a haughty look. "I, am not sweet. See?" He vamped out and showed her his fangs.  
  
She studied him closely, turning his head this way and that. "That whole grr-y thing and stuff? I'm over it. It's just not scary anymore. It's cute... like a teddy bear."  
  
Spike looked offended. "Am too scary. Let's go find some humans and I'll vamp out. Come on. Bet *they'd* run screaming."  
  
Willow shrugged, and, ooo, his arm was still around her shoulders. "If you really want me to be afraid of you, try to kill me. That should do it."  
  
His arm tightened around her. "I don't want you afraid. Where would be the fun in that? I just want you."  
  
Willow drew in a breath, wishing he meant that, wishing he'd stop with the incessant teasing. "Well you can't have me, I like my blood just where it's at, thank you very much."  
  
She started to walk in the direction of the entrance, but Spike spun her around. His eyes were so full of want and need that Willow's stomach did a little flip-flop. One look from Spike could do that to her. And now he knew it.  
  
"Not your blood. You. I want to kiss you." He leaned forward, pressing his lips softly to hers, while she stared at him with wide, shocked eyes. "I want to touch every inch of you." His mouth slid down her neck, trailing small kisses along her heated flesh. "I want to make love to you." He closed the minute distance between them by pressing his hand on her lower back, forcing her into him so that she could feel his erection. "I want to watch you as you go over the edge... and I want to be the one to take you there." His mouth finally settled over hers, devouring her with such intensity, that Willow had trouble breathing.  
  
Unsure what was happening, what had caused such a turn around in him, she tore her mouth away from his. "What--"  
  
He put his finger on her lips. "I love you."  
  
She stared at him in shock, sure that she was dreaming. 


	17. What Comes part17

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, 6, 11, or 16.  
  
PART 17  
  
(November 2001)  
  
Willow woke up to someone slapping her face. She looked up... at the stars? The dream that had seemed so real, was rapidly disappearing in her panic. She sat up, looking around her. She was in a cemetery, and that was Spike's hand doing the slapping.  
  
"What am I doing sleeping in a cemetery?"  
  
Spike laughed humorlessly. "Sleeping? You were knocked out by a demon. Remember? Big? Dark blue with gold symbols all over it?"  
  
Willow sat up with a frown, feeling lost. There it was again, that loss of control. She really didn't like that. "Um, when? Last I remember we were--" Oh, no you don't. Let him tell you the last thing that happened. Obviously it had all just been a dream. A very pleasant dream, but a dream nonetheless. "Um, what were we doing?"  
  
Spike sat on a headstone and regarded her curiously. "You don't remember?"  
  
"Sure. I remember we-- um, *you* fought a couple of vampires, and then we were talking about the next slayer being called. Right?"  
  
Spike nodded slowly. "Yeah. That all happened."  
  
Standing was a little more difficult than sitting up had been. She swayed a little, feeling like she hadn't slept in a week. A yawn escaped her and she had to force her eyes open. "Um, then you heard a noise, and went to look, but there was nothing there."  
  
"Wrong."  
  
Her eyes flew to his. So it *had* been just a dream. Of course it was. Spike... her Spike, would never kiss her, at least not while she was fully awake. Never tell her he wanted her. That he loved her. Her heart suddenly felt tight in her chest, and she was having trouble breathing. She sat back down, drawing in air. "So, what did happen?"  
  
"Never mind that," he told her, striding over to her and pulling her up. "Let's go." He put his arm around her shoulders, and steered her toward the cemetery entrance.  
  
Again with the arm. Willow shrugged out from under him and backed away a few feet. "What are you doing? What happened?" She hadn't lost her memory again, had she? She took a deep breath and faced him, hoping to put her mind at ease. "Did it happen again? The spell backfire?"  
  
He rolled his eyes impatiently. "It doesn't matter. Let's just go home... " He ran his eyes over her seductively. "Where I can shag you in private."  
  
"Shag?" she yelped. "What? Why?" What was going on here? She was so confused.  
  
He was watching her intently, his eyes flashing with hunger as he closed the distance between them. He took her hand and pressed it against his erection. "If you don't know why," he whispered huskily, "then maybe you need a reminder."  
  
Completely freaked out by him, she yanked her hand away. "Stop it. What's the matter with you?" She stomped away from him. "Gotta be dreaming again," she mumbled.  
  
  
  
(November 2001)  
  
Spike didn't know what to do. Willow was still out. It'd been two hours since the demon had attacked her. Two hours since he'd returned from checking out the noise and found her unconscious on the grass, a big blue demon with gold symbols on it, standing over her. The demon, in the process of picking Willow up, had dropped her and run when Spike attacked him. Spike had then carried her to the magick shop, and broken in the back door. Things went a little more smoothly this time than when he broke in with Dawn.  
  
He threw another book on the table, his frustration mounting with every passing minute. The answer had to be here somewhere, in one of these blasted books. But he hadn't found anything yet, except his helplessness. Not even knowing how to go about finding the bloody demon, Spike cursed himself for not having paid more attention during their research sessions. Maybe then he'd know which books contained the demon he needed. Finding the reversal spell for the emotional control screw-up was easier than this.  
  
At least Willow's life hadn't been in immediate danger.  
  
As if hearing his thoughts, she moaned and whimpered, obviously in the throes of a nightmare. He swept the books to the floor in one clean sweep, wishing that at least one of their friends had survived the massacre-- Tara. Tara was alive, and damn if she wasn't a witch! Spike could have smacked himself for not remembering her earlier. He hoped it wasn't too late.  
  
Halfway out the door, he stopped. He couldn't leave Willow alone here, not in the condition she was in. Giles had to have the witch's number here somewhere. He went around the counter and searched for a phone book, anything with phone numbers. He found it almost immediately. Dialing the girl's number, he swallowed his distaste for her and told her what had happened, and asked her to come to the Magic Box.  
  
Willow whimpered again and Spike sat down beside her. Her hair was plastered to her face with sweat, her skin was flushed, and a frown had formed on her brow. Smoothing her hair back, he was surprised to feel cool flesh instead of heated. He'd thought she was feverish. She shuddered at his touch and pulled away from him with a moan. He felt inexplicably hurt by her actions... as if she knew it was him, and was rejecting him.  
  
He took her hand, partially to comfort her and partially to reassure himself that she wasn't rejecting him, just her dream phantoms. She didn't pull away this time, but snuggled closer to him with a sigh.  
  
This was the first time he'd truly been able to touch her since their conversation in his crypt. Since the night she'd kept silent after his declaration of... love? No. He hadn't declared his love for her, he'd vowed never to do that again after Buffy. He had piss-poor luck when it came to love, didn't he? Fell in love too easily, and with the wrong women. Why was he plagued with these feelings so much?  
  
He blamed it all on that blasted poet he'd been before getting turned. Damned sensitive wanker, if he hadn't been such a pansy, Spike wouldn't feel every little thing as deeply as he did. He'd go through life with little regard for others, killing, maiming, torturing... ah, good times. But, no, that couldn't be his simple life. He had to feel and want and hunger and need.  
  
Feel and want and hunger and need to have his love returned. Buffy'd been the worst. She'd broken his heart just as badly as Dru and Cecily. Maybe more. And now Willow? Yeah, he'd definitely fallen in love with her sometime in the past few months. Maybe even before that.  
  
There'd definitely been some ogling going on when he first got chipped. At their research sessions, he'd cheerfully looked up Buffy's skirts, admired Willow's rear when she bent over in view of him, saw through a couple of her shirts... and when Willow was dying inside from the wolf's loss, he'd noticed. Probably only because he'd so recently felt the same, but it could've been more than that, couldn't it?  
  
He'd certainly always found her attractive. Smoothing her hair away from her face with a sigh, he shifted slightly, rearranging her on his lap.  
  
Truth was, he'd told Willow more than he'd ever intended to, more than he should have. That was obvious now.  
What had he been thinking when he told her she was the 'more' he was searching for? Bloody hell, had to be the leftover bits of his human, poetic mind interfering, screwing things up for him.  
  
She hadn't even responded to the declaration. She'd stopped walking, and he could hear her heartbeat speed up, and he'd been so hopeful, thinking maybe she felt something close to what he felt for her. He'd left the decision entirely up to her.  
  
When she finally ran to catch up with him, his heart had tried to start beating.  
  
When she remained silent, his heart did the same.  
  
Well now, he thought, aren't you just the poetic ponce?  
  
Even still, he'd been able to justify her lack of response to himself. Maybe she was afraid of his feelings for her, or her feelings for him, or both. And she'd only just broken up with Tara recently. Plus she had that fling with William. He'd ignored the thought that that should make her want *him* too. Maybe she didn't like what he'd become. Maybe she liked the danger of being with William.  
  
Sure were a lot of maybes.  
  
He traced his hand down her face, and leaned down to kiss her lips lightly. She moaned again, still in distress, locked in another nightmare.  
  
He'd told Willow that she was everything he was looking for, everything he'd been lacking, and he'd meant it. She satisfied every part of him. His heart, his mind, his body, his sense of humor, his... everything.  
  
And now, because he couldn't keep his mouth shut, there was an unspoken rule between them; no talking about that night, no talking about their feelings, and no touching. Tonight, he'd broken that rule. And look what'd happened. Well that changes. As soon as she woke up, he was telling her exactly how he felt, and giving her an ultimatum. If she didn't feel the same way, or wasn't amenable to a relationship with him, he'd leave town.  
  
Leave Sunnydale behind once and for all. That decided, he sat back more comfortably, and kissed Willow's forehead as he waited for her ex to get there.  
  
Tara finally arrived twenty minutes later, rushing through the door in a panic, her hair flying all around her, books falling to the floor. Not seeming to notice the books, she left them where they were and ran to Willow. Spike stepped back, giving the girl room, though what he really wanted to do was pull her away from Willow. He'd still been holding Willow, just enjoying actually being able to do that when he heard Tara coming. Setting her down had been one of the hardest things he'd had to do in a while, but he'd done it, and stood away, moving slightly away from her.  
  
"What happened?" Tara asked, running her hands over Willow, checking for injuries.  
  
Not liking the familiar way she touched Willow, Spike spoke more harshly than he intended. "She doesn't have any wounds. She's... asleep, as far as I can tell. Heart rates normal. So's her breathing."  
  
She only then seemed to *really* notice him there. Her eyes flickered from Willow to him, and he was surprised to see a healthy dose of dislike in her gaze before she looked away again. "Asleep? Is it a sleep spell? Did someone do that? A sleep spell, I mean." She rolled her eyes at herself, her stumbling questions completely ruining the in charge effect she was striving for.  
  
Spike almost felt sorry for her... but, no, he really didn't. "A demon. Big blue thing with gold... lettering or symbols or something on his arms and face." He wondered, as he studied her, why she and Willow had broken up. All he knew was that they had, but he suspected William factored in there somehow. Did Tara know Willow had slept with his younger self?  
  
Her eyes suddenly went wide. "Are you sure they were gold? Th-- they weren't silver?"  
  
Spike had to clench his fists to keep from snapping at her. "I'm sure. Why?"  
  
Tara wasn't paying attention to him any longer. She'd rushed over to her forgotten books and was sorting through them. Or throwing them, rather. Finally, she grabbed a small, thin, bright red book, and brought it to the table to read.  
  
Spike waited impatiently until she found what she was looking for, then even more impatiently when she didn't tell him anything. "Well?" he snapped.  
  
She looked up from the book, her eyes falling on Willow. "She's been claimed by a Dream Djin." Her voice shook slightly.  
  
"Great," he said in relief, "now that we know what it is, how do I kill it? How do we wake her up?" This he could do, take action. It was the sitting around and reading part that got to him, frustrated him. He raised a questioning brow at her when she remained silent. "Witch?"  
  
She shook her head slowly. "We don't. She has to wake herself up. She has to figure it out, and make herself wake up."  
  
Was that despair lacing her voice? He thought it just might be. Confusion settled over him. "How's she supposed to do that?"  
  
"I don't know if she can."  
  
And once again, there went his heart trying to beat in his chest.  
  
  
  
(November 2001)  
  
Willow stared at the vampire before her, wondering if she'd lost her mind, because she couldn't have heard him right. "You love me?" Something about this scene felt familiar to her, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She and Spike were patrolling, looking for a blue demon with gold sigils on it, but the cemetery seemed rather dead. Not of the vampire kind, just the buried in the ground kind. Then suddenly, from out of nowhere, Spike grabbed her hand and proclaimed his love for her.  
  
And now he was nodding, a seductive smile turning up his lips as his eyes roamed over her. "With all my heart." He pulled her closer, cradling her face in his hands. "I want to be with you forever." He kissed her lips lightly, and wrapped his arms around her. "Always." His lips brushed against her neck.  
  
Willow pulled back, a bit afraid of him. She saw the golden glow of his eyes and her own widened. She took a few very large steps back, watching him warily. She chuckled nervously. "But, not in a vampire way? Right?"  
  
His face vamped out in answer and he stalked toward her. "It's the only way we can be together forever," he said reasonably.  
  
Willow held her hand out to halt his progress. "But. You said you loved me," she yelled in a panic.  
  
He stopped and grinned. "I did," he agreed.  
  
"Then, um, if you kill me, and-- and turn me, the part you love about me will be gone. Forever. My soul?" she said sadly, "kaput."  
  
Spike shrugged and grabbed her by the shoulders. "It's not your soul I love," he whispered, biting into her neck.  
  
Willow screamed and shoved him away. This was just another nightmare. It had to be. She needed to wake up, that's all. She turned to run and fell flat on her face. She moaned and climbed hastily to her feet... in the Magic Box?  
  
"Huh? How did I get here?" She blinked a few times, feeling exhausted. Oh, right, she'd fallen asleep here. She glanced around, looking for the others, sure that they'd all been there, researching some kind of funky blue demon with gold things on it.  
  
But now, Spike was the only one there. The shop was dark aside from a few candles on the table. She carefully approached Spike, who was curled up on the big chair, with his back to her. She shook his shoulder lightly. "Spike."  
  
He groaned and stretched a bit, rolling over with a yawn. "Red?" His eyes widened and he sat up quickly. "Willow." He stood up and pulled her with him to the other side of the room.  
  
She watched him warily, wondering what he was up to. "Spike? What are you doing? What's--" and then she saw it. Her. Saw her. "Tara?" Tara was just getting up from the chair Spike had been asleep in. All she had on was her blouse, which barely reached the tops of her thighs.  
  
"Willow." She bit her lip nervously and her eyes shot to Spike's.  
  
Willow yanked her arm out of Spike's grip and turned to him, accusation plain on her face. "You slept with her?" She turned back to Tara, hurt and pain ripping through her. "Tara, how... oh, God," she whispered. She backed away from the two of them, wanting to be as far away as possible.  
  
Tara went to Spike, putting her arm around his waist and leaning into him. Spike wrapped his arm around Tara's shoulders, smirking at Willow. "Sorry, Red, you've been replaced. You served your purpose; I never fell for Buffy. But now your usefulness has ended."  
  
"Willow, I really did love you. Really," Tara said with a giggle, unable to keep a straight face. Spike's chuckles joined Tara's and turned into hysterical laughter. At Willow's expense.  
  
Willow turned and ran, feeling like she'd stumbled into a nightmare dreamscape. This one was worse than the last one. At least then it had only been Spike betraying her, not William and Tara. She ran through the darkened streets to her house, shoved open her front door, and almost knocked down a startled Spike.  
  
"Willow? What happened?" He reached out to steady her, but she jerked away.  
  
"Don't touch me." She walked stiffly past him, upstairs to her room. He followed her, leaning against the doorjamb as she collapsed on her bed with a sob. "Go away," she whispered miserably.  
  
He pushed away from the wall and knelt down beside her. "What is it, Willow?" His hand smoothed down her back, calming her somewhat.  
  
This was Spike, not William. This Spike hadn't betrayed her with Tara. Okay, so Willow had betrayed Tara first, but not with someone who hated her. Oh, wait. Yes, she had. She sniffled and lifted her head to look at Spike. "William and Tara slept together. At the Magic Box."  
  
Spike's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Not bloody likely," he practically shouted. "There's no way in hell I'd sleep with that chit," he bit out. "Ever."  
  
Inexplicably angry at him for insulting Tara, Willow wiped her eyes and sat straighter. "Well you did."  
  
Spike shook his head, and grabbed her hand. "No way, baby, I would never cheat on you. I love you, Willow, not some pasty faced stutterer." He smiled tenderly, completely ignoring her groan of frustration, and kissed her.  
  
Would she ever actually wake up? Every time she thought she was awake, something happened to slap that idea down, and the dreams were turning into nightmares. Horrible nightmares. "I want to wake up," she groaned.  
  
Spike pulled back with a grin. "Believe me," he snickered, sliding his hand inside her shirt, "you are awake." He kissed a trail down her neck and sucked at the flesh there.  
  
"So you say," she sighed, "but I know differently. Pretty soon you're going to try to bite me and mention some stupid blue demon." Hey, the blue demon... maybe he was key to waking up. But how? And what was she supposed to do? Find him? Kill him? What?  
  
Spike pulled away and Willow sighed, seeing his demonic ridges in place. She tilted her head to the side and closed her eyes, giving in. Maybe it wouldn't hurt, she thought, like when William had fed from her. Maybe it would wake her up. Maybe-- she screamed as his fangs pierced her flesh, ripping her throat out.  
  
  
  
(November 2001)  
  
"How?" Spike asked Tara. "How is she supposed to wake herself up? What does she have to do?"  
  
Tara sat down in a chair, blinking at him as if she'd forgotten he was there. "She has to answer a question."  
  
"A question?" Spike asked in disbelief. "That's it?"  
  
"No. It's not a simple question. It's something that she may not know to be true except subconsciously." She sighed, not quite able to explain what she meant. "The Dream Djin poses a question to her in the shape of dreams, and she has to answer it. It's usually something that the person doesn't see, or want to see. And it can only be answered truthfully, otherwise she'll-- she'll stay asleep and the Djin will get her soul."  
  
Spike nodded and turned back to face Willow. He hid his frown from the witch behind him, and refrained from kicking or hitting something to relieve his frustration. He hadn't just realized his love for Willow just to have her taken away from him. He wouldn't let that happen again.  
  
"You're a bloody witch, isn't there something you can do? Go inside her mind or something? Tell her what she has to do?" He'd already lost everyone he cared about... loved. Dru, Buffy... the others, though he'd deny it to the death. And now it looked like he might lose Willow too. Well, not if he could help it. He turned back to Tara, who had once again fallen silent. "What about that spell she used to go into Buffy's mind?" Tara still didn't answer, so he snapped at her, "I'm not talking to myself here, Witch."  
  
She jumped up excitedly, a smile lighting her face as she ran behind the counter, grabbing ingredients. "There's a spell to go into her mind... like you said. I don't know if it's the same one Willow used or not, but... it should work. I can go--" her eyes shot to his and she frowned, obviously not liking what she was about to say. "You'll have to go so I can do the spell. You go into her dreams and tell her about the Dream Djin, she might know what it is." She brought some candles to the table, along with a bowl and some herbs. Her eyes were on the items in her hands, and she was doing her damnedest to avoid looking at him as she passed by.  
  
"And if she doesn't?" Spike asked, watching her. "Is the Genie going to try to stop me? Can he kill us?"  
  
Tara flipped on the light above the table area and began putting the ingredients into the bowl. "Tell her as much as you can. He'll probably try to stop you, but I don't think he can kill you. Or Willow," she added quickly. "You don't... um, you don't have a soul for him to take, so he probably won't even notice you right away."  
  
Spike nodded thoughtfully. "So I just go into her dreams, find her, tell her what to do and avoid the Genie while I'm at it." He knelt down beside Willow, resisting the urge to smooth her hair back. Tara might find that a little suspicious. Though why he cared what she thought, he had no idea. Had to be Willow's influence. Tara would be upset, and then Willow would be upset, which would make him none too happy. Stupid witch. "Can I help her answer the question?"  
  
Tara shook her head distractedly as she lit the candles. "I don't know. I've never done this before." She looked at him for a split second, before returning to her task. "You're kind of on your own here."  
  
Spike snorted. "Won't be the first time. Hopefully not the last either." He stood up, pacing restlessly. "Let's do this."  
  
"I'm almost ready with this stuff, you need to, um," she cleared her throat and ducked her head, "hold her hand. Physical contact is necessary."  
  
Spike hid a grin and nodded solemnly. "Right." He removed his duster, getting comfortable, and sat down beside Willow, taking her hand in his, closing his eyes to shut out the sight of the blonde witch. Touching Willow, as always, sent so many different feelings through him. Want, need, desire, a sense of contentment, and belonging. A sense of... home. He had to resist the urge to pull her completely into his arms, and just be content with holding her hand.  
  
"Well?" he drawled, "I'm waiting."  
  
Tara cleared her throat again--getting a cold, Witch?--and started chanting.  
  
  
  
(November 2001)  
  
Willow sighed in exasperation when she once again woke up. This time she knew immediately that she was still dreaming. It was becoming easier and easier to tell, especially since the cast was no longer on her arm. She was in her bedroom at her house, alone. Well, that was unusual. Since the first dream, she hadn't been alone, someone else was always there... mostly Spike. Tara had only appeared three times, Xander and Oz, each once, and Buffy twice. Giles hadn't shown up at all, for which she was kind of grateful.  
  
Sitting up, she wondered what she should do. Maybe if she stayed here, someone would show up. Or not show up. Or she'd wake up. Or--  
  
"Willow?" Spike called from downstairs.  
  
Crap. She got up, looking down at her pajamas and shrugged. Men's pajama pants, and a black t-shirt that looked an awful lot like Spike's shirt. They weren't her clothes, but who was she to complain?  
  
"Willow?" His yell was followed by running footsteps on the stairs, and a slamming door. Her bedroom door. Flying open to reveal Spike standing there in said black shirt, a worried look on his face. "There you are. Do you have any idea how hard it was to find you? Your mind is... odd."  
  
"Odd?" She shook her head dismissively. "Haven't seen you in a while. Mostly it's been Tara, or Oz, or... hey, I have an idea. Why don't you have Oz and Tara sleep together? That one hasn't been done yet."  
  
Spike's brows dipped down in confusion. "What are you talking about? Tara's back at the magic shop--"  
  
"Yeah, I know," she sneered, pacing over to him. "She's busy sleeping with William, or else she would've come here herself, right?"  
  
"Sleeping with William," he repeated, shuddering. "Yuck. No, we did a spell... you're dreaming--"  
  
Willow gasped dramatically and put a hand to her chest, opening her eyes wide in mock surprise. "I'm... dreaming? Really?" She crossed her arms and glared at him. "Why don't you tell me something I don't know, Spike?"  
  
He grabbed one of her arms and pulled her along with him. "Come on, let's get out of here before the demon finds us. I don't really fancy fighting this thing in your dream."  
  
Willow rolled her eyes at his back. Of course he didn't. Sick and tired of being led around by this dream demon thingie, Willow decided to take charge. When they reached the downstairs, she pulled her hand from his and sat down on the couch.  
  
Spike stared at her in disbelief. "What are you doing? Come on, we have to get out of here."  
  
"No," she told him, stretching languidly. She saw his eyes drop to her exposed stomach and rolled her eyes. This demon had a one-track mind. Maybe it was a lust demon or something. Regardless, she needed to let him in on something. "You're not in charge anymore, I am. And I choose not to go anywhere with you. Not to get bit by you... " she fixed her eyes to his. "And not to be killed by you."  
  
He did a good job of acting guilty. "Is that what you've been dreaming about? Me killing you?" He sat on the arm of the couch with a sigh.  
  
"Yep." She laid down and closed her eyes. "And I'm not playing anymore, so go find someone else to seduce."  
  
"Seduce?" he said in surprise. "Uh, you've been dreaming about me seducing you, love?"  
  
She heard the huskiness of his voice, could imagine his eyes burning into her as he ogled her, and managed to ignore it all. And him. "Wonder if there's anything on my dream TV?"  
  
"Willow?" he said, tapping her foot, then cleared his voice, trying again without all that lust in there. "Willow, we really do have to go. Now. Tara's not sure if he can kill us in here or not, so let's not find out, huh?"  
  
"Oh, Tara says so, does she? Was that before, during, or after you had sex with her?"  
  
"I did not sleep with the witch, and I have no intention of sleeping with her," he said, sounding irritated. "Can't even stand her, remember?"  
  
She forced a yawn, which wasn't too hard, and stretched a little more. "Sure, Spike. Or William. Or whoever you are this time."  
  
He grabbed her hand and pulled her up. "Get up, shut up, and come on before the bloody Dream Djin finds out I'm here... trying to save you from losing your soul."  
  
Now that was different, she'd never been told what it was before. Or what it wanted. "Dream Djin? Is that what you are?"  
  
Spike's irritation was palpable at this point. "No, I'm Spike. The thing that has you trapped here is the Dream Djin."  
  
"Okay," she said, playing along, "is that what the blue guy is? With the gold sigils?"  
  
"Yes," he said in exasperation. "Remember? We were in the cemetery talking about the next slayer being called? I heard a noise and went to check it out, but there was nothing there. When I got back to where I'd left you, I--"  
  
"Yeah, yeah," she said with a sigh. They were back to the same old thing again. "You found me, and told me you loved me," she said in a bored voice, not letting the hurt show through. The pain of betrayal. It was only a dream Spike that had betrayed her after all. And a dream Tara. And Oz, and Buffy, and Xander. "Blah blah, been there, done that, got the t-shirt." She plucked at the shirt she was wearing, and shrugged. "Look familiar? I'm sure it's yours. Though, I don't actually know how it got on me. You know, just once, you could actually finish what you start before ripping my throat out. It's only common courtesy."  
  
Spike was looking at her like... well, frankly, like she was Drusilla or something. "Willow, as much as I'd like to just throw you down and have my way with you, again, now is not the time. I'm not part of your dream. Tara did a spell to send me here. A Dream Djin claimed you while I was checking out that noise, and you've been asleep for over three hours." He pulled her up and out the door with him. "She said you had to answer a question in order to wake up, otherwise the genie gets your soul, so unless you want to die here, I suggest we get the bloody hell out of here. Now."  
  
"Nice try, Spike." She let him pull her along anyway, becoming bored with this dream. He dragged her outside, and down the street. She wasn't too surprised to see that they were headed to his crypt.  
  
They made most of the trip in silence, with an occasional comment from Willow. Finally, she couldn't stand it any longer. "Are you gonna try to seduce me again?"  
  
Spike looked over his shoulder at her, rolling his eyes. "For the tenth time, Willow, I'm not part of your dream. I'm the real Spike. Not William, not the shapeshifter, not a dream Spike."  
  
"That's what you said the last time. Then you--"  
  
"A question," he interrupted, sounding desperate. "Tara said you have to answer a question in order to get out of here. Otherwise the Dream Djin gets your soul. Bloody hell, Willow, help me out here."  
  
She shrugged, still not believing him, but allowing for the possibility. "Okay, fine. What's the question?"  
  
They reached his crypt, and he opened the door for her. She went past him and sat in his chair while he leaned against one of the pillars.  
  
"Don't know. She thought you might recognize the genie. Doesn't ring any bells?" He searched his pockets for his cigarettes, but couldn't find them.  
  
Willow tried to remember any and all things she'd read about genies and dreams, but came up empty. "Nope. And the only thing that's been in almost all the dreams is you. So you tell me what it means."  
  
Spike leered at her, winking exaggeratedly. "That you've got the hots for me?"  
  
She rolled her eyes, ignoring the guilty way her heart leapt to life at his words. "Oh please. Why don't you quit lusting after me, and help me figure this thing out."  
  
He strolled over to her. "I'm lusting after you?" He smirked, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "These aren't my dreams. Not my mind."  
  
He inhaled deeply, making her shiver. Her skin was humming at his nearness. Remembering the last time they'd been here together, and the things he'd said, she really, really wished this wasn't just another dream. "Spike?" she whispered.  
  
He sat down on the arm of the chair. "Yeah, love?"  
  
Instead of saying what she wanted to say, which was a whole lot of stuff containing the words, 'take me, make love to me, let's have sex' and other such things, she said, "If you are just another dream version of the real Spike could you not kill me this time? Please?" And she didn't have to fake the pleading tone in her voice either.  
  
"I promise I won't kill you," he assured her with a sigh. "Now help me figure this thing out."  
  
Sick of his nagging, she rolled her eyes and stood up. "Fine. A question, huh?"  
  
Spike nodded, sliding off the arm of the chair and onto the seat she'd just vacated. "That's what Sutter Girl said." He frowned a bit. "Since I'm a big player in your dreams, could it be that you're afraid of me?" The way she was looking at him made him think that maybe he hadn't sounded as unaffected as he'd tried to. He really didn't want her to be afraid of him. Not anymore. Sure, at one time, not too long ago, he'd wanted exactly that, but not now. Things had changed. He had changed.  
  
But he didn't want her to know that yet, not while trapped in here, stuck in her dreams. There'd be time enough after they got free.  
  
Now it was her turn to reassure him. "No, I'm not afraid of you. At all." She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, and smiled a bit. "If you're the real Spike, that is."  
  
He laughed, reaching for a cigarette again. This time he found them in his duster pocket. "You're paranoid, you know that?" He lit one, inhaling deeply.  
  
Willow shrugged, unconcerned. "You would be too. Okay, so, let's figure this out. You've gotta have something to do with it, since you've been in nearly every dream so far."  
  
"Doing what? Besides seducing you," he chuckled. He was mostly joking, but he was also hopeful. Maybe her dreams were saying what she couldn't. That she had feelings for him. Again, the thought that she'd slept with William came to mind. Willow wasn't the kind to sleep around, and though he'd assumed at first that she'd slept with William out of grief, and then regretted it later, he now knew better.  
  
She sighed and dropped to the floor in front of him. "Let's see. You've slept with Tara, or William did. Whatever. And when Oz and Veruca made a cameo, or Buffy and Xander, you showed up just in time to kill me, or turn me. Other times, you proclaimed your never ending love for me," she said with a cheeky grin. "Such a fickle vampire," she lamented with mock sadness.  
  
"Okay, so apparently it *is* that you've got the hots for me," he teased with a wink.  
  
She slapped his leg. "You know, arrogance doesn't-- well, yeah, actually it does suit you, but, um, stop it."  
  
Suddenly, the door burst open, startling them. Willow jumped to her feet, but by that time Spike was diving at the blue demon. It was the one from the cemetery, definitely the genie responsible for all of this. Spike landed on the demon, and they both went down. And, then he was alone.  
  
Willow screamed as Spike climbed to his feet. The blue demon was across the room, advancing on her. She was hastily backing up, but the wall behind her wouldn't allow her much more room to move. Spike charged the genie, and yanked him away from Willow.  
  
"You can't kill me," the genie told him, his sneer matching his French accent perfectly. "And you can't have the girl. Her soul is mine."  
  
"When will you demons learn? I don't share." Spike punched the demon, who suddenly wasn't there anymore. His fist smashed into the wall, bones breaking on impact. "Bloody hell," he yelled, cradling his fist.  
  
Willow darted around the pillar and the genie, joining Spike by his bed. "Come on," she whispered, pulling at his shirt, trying to drag him out the door with her.  
  
Spike held his ground, knowing the demon wouldn't let them go that easily. "Get behind me," he told Willow, keeping his eye on the demon. The demon who had, once again, disappeared. He spun around at Willow's yelp, shoving her behind him again. "Stay still, you blasted Judge wanna-be."  
  
Willow held onto his arm, and peered around him. "He does kind of look like a Smurf gone bad, doesn't he?" she giggled. The giggle turned into a snort of laughter when the demon raised an imperious eyebrow.  
  
"A Smurf?" it repeated, rolling its eyes. "I hardly think so." He strolled forward, reaching out for Willow. "Come, we have business to attend to."  
  
Willow jerked away, but didn't hide behind Spike. She stood beside him, straightening her shoulders and glaring at the demon. "No. You want my soul, then ask your stupid question here and get it over with."  
  
Spike, proud of her display of courage, shoved her behind him again. "I don't think that's a good idea, pet."  
  
The demon shrugged eloquently, and held his hands out. "Very well. This... place, will work, I suppose." He looked around, sniffing in distaste.  
  
Willow started around Spike, but he grabbed her hand with his un-broken one, holding her still. "Spike, let go," she hissed.  
  
"Uh, no," he said reasonably, "I'm *not* going to let you walk over to the evil demon who wants your soul."  
  
Willow rolled her eyes and stepped back beside him. "Fine, whatever, Mr. Over-protective Guy." She faced the demon and tried to cross her arms, but Spike wasn't letting go of her hand. She sighed heavily. "This question," she asked, "do I know the answer already? I mean, is it something I can actually answer? Something that has an answer?"  
  
"Yes," the demon said, dipping his head in acknowledgement.  
  
"Great," she said with a smile. "Then let's get this over with, because I want to wake up already. No offense, but this place sucks."  
  
"Sure of yourself, aren't you?" the demon asked in amusement.  
  
Willow shrugged modestly. "This is the stuff I'm good at. Just call me Brainy Smurf."  
  
"Again with the Smurfs," the demon chuckled. "All right, here is your question."  
  
"Wait. What if she gets it wrong?" Spike asked. "Can I help her answer it?" Seeing Willow's glare, he added, "If she needs help."  
  
The demon sighed. "If she gets it wrong, she loses her soul. And... yes. I suppose I will allow you to help her," he said magnanimously.  
  
"Just ask already," Willow said impatiently. "I want to wake up. Okay?"  
  
Spike tightened his hand around hers in warning when the demon narrowed his eyes. She squeezed right back.  
  
"Your question," the demon said, then fell silent.  
  
Spike waited patiently, then impatiently as the Willow and the demon stared at each other. "Um, hello? Her question?"  
  
Willow squeezed his hand again and smiled at the genie. "Spike?"  
  
"Yeah?" He looked from Willow to the genie, who was nodding in defeat. "What's going on? You gonna ask your blasted question, or not?"  
  
She grinned in triumph, and hopped a few times. "He already did. I won. I get to wake up. Yay."  
  
Spike, not about to stop to question their good fortune, shrugged and started out of the crypt. He'd ask her later, after they woke up. "Great. Let's go then. How do we--"  
  
"Not yet," the demon said. Seeing the two of them stiffen, he smiled and waved his hand. "Oh, you're free to go, of course. I always keep my word. However, you're also free to stay for a while. Have fun, enjoy yourselves," he said generously. "Whatever you want is yours for the rest of this dream. And don't worry, you won't remember a thing once you wake up."  
  
"Um, no thanks," Willow said with a strained smile. "How-- how do we get out of here?"  
  
The demon chuckled. "Answer the question, or do the one thing you most want to do. Au revoire." He walked toward the door, disappearing before he reached it.  
  
Spike stared after him angrily. Were they any better off than they'd been before? "I thought you already answered the question. And how did you answer it by the way?" He let go of Willow's hand, turning away to examine his own hand. It was black and blue already, as well as green, yellow and bloody. And quite broken.  
  
"In my mind, telepathically or something. And I don't plan on answering it again." She went to the door, trying to open it. "Locked, or stuck. Can you... ?"  
  
Being left-handed, Spike had been swinging with his left hand when the demon disappeared and his fist smashed into the stone wall. Now all he had was his right hand, and, even with his vampiric strength, he didn't think he'd be much use if the door was stuck, or worse, locked from the outside.  
  
"Spike? Hello. Earth to--"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I got it." He shoved his injured hand into his duster pocket and went to the door. As soon as he pulled on the handle he knew they were stuck unless they could find another way out. He turned back to her, shrugging. "Sorry."  
  
Willow tucked her hair behind her ears, staring at his hand still ensconced in his pocket. "Gonna actually try to open the door now?"  
  
He shrugged, and rolled his eyes. "I can't. Why don't you just answer the bloody question and get us out of here?"  
  
"Uh, because I don't want to?" she replied. "Why don't you just open the bloody door?" She glared at him, waiting expectantly.  
  
"I can't, didn't I just say that?" Spike snapped, shoving past her. She grabbed his arm, swinging him back around.  
  
"Why not?" she demanded, her big green eyes watching him angrily.  
  
He shoved his hand through his hair. "That's not the way out anyhow. Pretty obvious, unless you're you."  
  
"Fine then." She leaned against the door, crossing her arms over her chest. "I suggest you get that chip out or go find Buffy or something, because that's the only way we're going to get out of here."  
  
Spike frowned at her. Is that what she thought he wanted most? The chip out, or Buffy? Had she not heard a word her told her that night in his crypt? Yes, he still wanted Buffy, but that's not what he wanted most. Maybe at one time. Hell, if he was honest with himself, it was only recently that he'd been able to not want Buffy without feeling guilty.  
  
And started wanting Willow? Yes. Definitely. But was it due to the recent deaths of all of their friends? Or was it because of who Willow was? Did he want the girl? Or was he holding on to the last vestige of his life in Sunnydale? He couldn't answer those questions yet, but he did know that he wanted Willow.  
  
Wait. Where was this doubt coming from? He already knew he wanted Willow, and why. He loved her.  
  
"Why don't you go find your witch, or run to William?" he retorted, pulling out his pack of cigarettes. He shook one out and lit it, all with one hand. Quite talented if he did say so himself. And he did.  
  
But Willow was watching him curiously. "What's wrong with your hand?" she asked suspiciously.  
  
Spike shrugged. "Nothing." He didn't want her pity. He was a vampire, he was supposed to be strong, the one in charge, in control. And yet, more than ever lately, he'd shown just how weak he was. Couldn't hurt humans. Couldn't hit a demon. Couldn't open a door.  
  
He didn't want her to see him as a charity case. He wanted to be the one in charge, the one to protect her. But she was already moving forward, pulling his hand out of his pocket, and examining it. He let her, hardly wincing at her light touch. Actually enjoying the feel of her warm skin against his cold hand. Her alive hands against his dead one.  
  
Willow, in her usual way, put things into perspective with her observant comments. "Ew. And yuck." Her mouth was screwed up in disgust, her eyes chastising.  
  
Spike shook his head at the concern etched on her face. It was touching, and heart-warming. Really. If he were a human, he'd be completely... uh, touched, or something. Being a vampire, he had to clench his jaw to keep from snapping at her. Kind of like his old self. Like a true vampire again. Like he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into that lovely white throat of hers, tear through the skin there, and get at the blood beneath the surface, the blood flowing in her veins.  
  
He had to shake himself out of his thoughts, and pull away from her and her touch. Her smell. Otherwise he was sure he'd be following up those visuals with reality. Willow hadn't noticed his change in attitude, but she must have noticed his change in appearance. She was staring at him, unconcerned with his demonic face, and that angered him. Where the bloody hell was all that fantastic fear he was used to getting from her? He inhaled deeply, his yellow eyes fixed on her.  
  
"Witch?" he growled. And the stupid girl simply crossed her arms over her chest, unmindful of the fact that he wanted to grab her and drain her dry while inflicting as much pain as possible on her.  
  
"Vampire?" One eyebrow quirked up at his odd behavior, but no concern.  
  
Spike closed his eyes, and tried to regain control of himself, but damn if he didn't see her still. Smell her. Feel her. Whatever the hell was going on, he knew it wasn't good. "Willow," he began, losing his patience. "Would you just answer the blasted question so we can get out of here?"  
  
"Would you just bite me?" she retorted, then realized who--or rather what--she was talking to. "Uh, I mean that in a, you know, non-biting capacity. Obviously."  
  
Amused at her backpedaling, Spike nodded. "Oh, yeah, obviously." He grinned and closed the distance between them. "But I think I'll take you up on the offer anyway." Grabbing her by her upper arm with his good hand, he shoved her into the wall.  
  
"Spike, um, ha ha," she said nervously, pushing at his chest. "You're having a funny moment, right? 'Cause... please?" Pushing him away was having no effect, so she tried to squirm out of his grip.  
  
Spike pressed himself against her, fully against her, letting her feel every inch of him as he lowered his head to her neck. He was at war with himself. He equally wanted to taste her, and kiss her. But he also found himself not wanting to do her any harm, and wondered what was happening to him. But then the doubt cleared.  
  
"Sorry, love, I can't seem to stop myself," he told her, his lips curving into a grin as he pressed them against her carotid artery.  
  
Her body actually relaxed at his words. "Oh. Human blood is what you want most? Um, okay, but... could you not make it hurt? Been there, done that. And, I happen to know for a fact that it doesn't have to hurt. So could you not? Please?" She held the collar of her shirt--his shirt--away from her neck, and waited.  
  
"Sure, love, whatever you say," he agreed, then sank his teeth into her neck, making sure to do it as slowly and painfully as possible.  
  
She screamed, trying to push him away, but he wasn't about to let a little redheaded witch get away from him. Not when he was getting his first real taste of warm human blood in two years. And damn, did it taste like heaven. He drank her screams in as much as he did her blood.  
  
"Spike, let me go," she yelled, kicking and hitting at him. "What's wrong with you?"  
  
Spike didn't stop to answer, he just continued to drink from her. Other parts of him were feeling somewhat neglected, but he didn't want to stop drinking her blood long enough to satisfy them. That thought sobered him, forced him to pull his fangs out of her neck, and distance himself from her. As soon as he let her go, she fell to her knees on the stone floor, but her head didn't drop. She lifted her shoulders, tilting her head back, and glared at him. He stalked across the crypt, turning his back on her as he tried to get control of himself.  
  
"Why didn't you just answer the question?" he asked in despair.  
  
"Because I didn't want to," Willow said through clenched teeth. "It's something personal. To me! And it's none of your business."  
  
Spike turned around, his human face back on again. He couldn't believe what he'd just done to her. Couldn't believe he'd lost control like that. "Bloody hell, Willow, I'm sorry," he said miserably. "I don't know what happened--"  
  
"Is that what you wanted most?" she interrupted. When he remained silent, she stood up and walked over to him. "Is it?" she repeated, holding her hand to her neck to stop the blood from flowing out.  
  
"I don't know," he confessed. "I was thinking about what my life has become, and then suddenly I couldn't stop myself from biting you. I lost control." He sincerely hoped the genie was telling the truth, that they wouldn't remember what happened when they woke up, because he couldn't lose Willow.  
  
She turned back to the door, which was now open. "Unless you have more important biting to do, I'm leaving." She walked, unhurriedly, to the door and paused without turning around. "I really hope I don't remember this," she said.  
  
Spike closed his eyes, cursing himself for all kinds of a fool. He started after her, saying a silent prayer that she, at least, wouldn't remember anything. 


	18. What Comes part18

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, 6, 11, or 16.  
  
PART 18  
  
(April 2000)  
  
Spike opened the door of his crypt with a snarl, still yanking on his t-shirt. The loud insistent pounding that had started a minute before came to a halt. Willow stood there nervously, half turned away, half facing him. She looked about ready to bolt.  
  
"What do you want, Willow?" Though his tone was belligerent, he was anything but. He was actually happy to see her. It'd been almost two weeks since he'd last seen her. At least a week since he'd hopped through time for a little visit with the future Willow; a week since discovering the implant was once again working. Since being back, he'd been mostly on his own, and he'd wanted it that way. Buffy had stayed away for once, not barging in at all hours to demand he do something or other, which was probably a good thing, because, feeling as he did, he might've braved the pain and the possible end of the world just to see her face smashed in and bloody.  
  
Unfortunately Willow had stayed away as well. He hadn't seen her, talked to her, or touched her for over a week. His last conversation with the Willow from the future had gone terribly wrong and he was itching for a chance to fix things. He wouldn't apologize for killing. Never would those words leave his lips, but he could pretend. Nod and smile. Make nice with her just to be near her and touch her.  
  
He was lost, and he knew it.  
  
This Willow here, the one from his own time, was another matter. She had no idea of what had gone on in the future, and he had no intention of telling her, not while he still had a chance with her.  
  
And now she was here, and other problems were looming. For days, he'd known what was coming, but was unable to do anything about it. And judging by the look on her face, she now knew as well.  
  
"Spike. Hi. Um, can I come in?" Without waiting for an answer, she walked past him.  
  
Spike closed the door against the bright sunshine, and turned around to face her, tucking his shirt in. She was standing in the middle of the room, frowning. His perusal of her faded jeans, and baggy shirt was interrupted by her next words.  
  
"Oh, hey, guess what? Oz is back. Isn't that neat?"  
  
She sounded a little... stressed. Kind of a lot stressed actually. Why? Oz was leaving, there should be no decisions weighing heavily on her mind.  
  
He hid his lack of surprise behind a laugh. "Better call the pound." He leaned closer in mock concern. "You have had your shots, haven't you?"  
  
She ignored his taunting, looking around uncomfortably, like she still wasn't sure why she was there. Well, make that two of them.  
  
"And?" he encouraged, seeing she wasn't about to offer anything up anytime soon. "As hard as it is to believe, I actually wasn't pining for news about your dog. So is there something else you wanted?" Sounded very cold and uncaring, he was sure of it.  
  
"I had a question. This Oz thing got me thinking about, you know, stuff." He saw her roll her eyes at herself and had to agree with the sentiment. "As far as I know you don't care about me."  
  
After a blank stare at her and realizing she was going to just stop right there, without continuing, Spike sat down in his chair with a sigh. Didn't care? He must be a better actor than he'd thought. Well... good.  
  
He was surprised it'd taken her this long to come to him. She was a curious person, always had her nose stuck in a book, typing away on her computer, looking things up, finding things out. It was how she was. That she'd waited two weeks before seeking him out to get some answers was amazing to him. He'd expected her much sooner.  
  
He patted his thigh and smirked at her. "Have a seat, we'll talk about this... uh, stuff you're curious about."  
  
Willow tilted her head to the side and gave him a disbelieving look. "Okay, now that I'm here, and have had a small amount of time to think about it, this was a really stupid idea."  
  
"Sit down," he said with a sigh. "What is it you're so curious about?" He hoped he didn't sound too eager, too desperate for company. Her company in particular.  
  
She looked unsure for a minute, biting her lip and glancing around before finally giving in with a sigh. "All right. But only because I'm really, really curious." Clasping her hands together, she stayed put, but relaxed a little. "Okay, so... oh, hey, did I mention Oz was back?" she asked in an attempt at stalling.  
  
He rolled his eyes and lit a cigarette, blowing smoke into the air above his head. "Yeah, you mentioned it." Forcing himself to keep the sarcasm to a minimum, he cleared his throat and asked, "What's the matter, Stutter Girl not willing to share?"  
  
Her eyes went wide. "How did you know-- oh! I knew you were following Tara," she said accusingly.  
  
Spike took a drag off his cigarette, his eyes never leaving hers. "I thought we already talked about that, Witch."  
  
She took a deep breath and exhaled. "Right." She nodded, sticking her hands in her pockets, then took them out and crossed her arms over her chest. "You're right. But, that's not why I'm here. I just-- well, I wanted to know... did you sleep with her?" She avoided looking at him, fixing her eyes somewhere in the vicinity of his boots.  
  
He'd gotten off easy two weeks ago. But now he would have to answer her questions. Honestly? He still wasn't sure if he'd be honest or not. Wasn't sure how candid he wanted to be. So, he played dumb, stalling for time. "Sleep with your blonde witch? Bloody hell, no. Anything else you'd like to accuse me of while you're at it?" He jumped to his feet for good measure.  
  
She burst out laughing, her amused gaze following him as he hopped up onto his bed. "Not Tara. No, I meant-- um, me. Well, not-- not me, as in me. But me from the future?" Obviously expecting him to either laugh at her or call her crazy, she winced and bit her thumb nail. But she didn't look away.  
  
Spike did. "You from the future?" he repeated, shaking his head in confusion. "What are you talking about? Is there another you walking around? 'Cause I gotta tell you, one is enough for me."  
  
"Spike," She joined him by the bed, speaking slowly, and clearly. "Did you have sex with a future version of me?"  
  
He was caught. She wasn't going to be put off. He was dust for sure now. Willow would run and tell the bimbo slayer, and the slayer would pay him a midnight visit, ending his pathetic excuse for a life.  
  
"What if I did?" he asked, running his eyes over her. "You jealous?" Her eyes flicked away from his, and her breathing quickened. Oh, well, look at that, he thought. This Willow was definitely attracted to him. It hadn't just been the alcohol the other night. He could've jumped for joy. Instead, he taunted her some more. "Care to have a go, pet?"  
  
Her frown was huge, her eyes shocked. "Why?" she whispered. "Why would you sleep with her? You don't even like me."  
  
He shrugged, acting all unconcerned, when what he really wanted to do was tell her--no, show her--just how much he really did like her. "Never said I slept with her, you just assumed I did." He slid his hand behind her head and pulled her closer. "Tell me, Willow. What bothers you more? The fact that I may have slept with someone I don't like? Or the fact that you may have slept with a demon?"  
  
She swallowed nervously and bit her lip, trying to pull away without being obvious. Spike didn't let go. He didn't want to let go. He wanted to kiss those sexy lips of hers, and be the one she was biting. Wanted to pull her that much closer, and trace her lips with his tongue, lightly press his mouth to hers, and slide his tongue into her mouth. So he did.  
  
And she tasted so good. Her lips, soft against his, were warm, and inviting. Instead of pulling away, as he'd expected, she moved closer, and opened her mouth for him. She moved between his legs, putting her hands on his stomach. Not to push him away, but to touch him. That, in itself, effected him more than anything else she could've done.  
  
But he didn't take it any further.  
  
He released her, dropping his hand from her neck... a bit slowly, he'd admit. And he sort of slid it down her back rather than dropping it, but eventually he did completely release her. Only, she didn't step back, or move away, or stop kissing him. Her small hands, still resting against his stomach, twisted in his shirt. Her breath fanned across his cheek as she kissed the side of his mouth.  
  
And then she pulled back. She was breathing hard, her eyes darkened with desire. A small frown furrowed her brow.  
  
"Sorry--" she whispered, then cleared her throat and tried again. "Sorry. Um, I-- I was just-- I had to figure something out."  
  
That wasn't what he'd expected her to say. "Figure something out?" What was he? Her blasted guinea pig? Getting his anger under control, he had to admit that he'd been using her as much as she had apparently been using him, so he had no right to be angry. "And did you?"  
  
She pried her eyes from the floor and nodded slowly. "I think I did, yeah." She smiled brilliantly. "Thank you."  
  
He took hold of her wrist, rubbing his thumb along the soft flesh on the inside of her arm. "Are you going to tell me what it was, or leave me in the dark?"  
  
"Oh," she smiled again, a beautiful smile. Radiant even. "I wanted to know if I felt like I was betraying Oz if I kissed you. Or, um, Tara," she added, almost as an afterthought.  
  
He hid his surprise behind a self satisfied grin. "Leaving the witch then?" Bloody hell, life was turning out to be grand after all, wasn't it? Oz was leaving town, Tara was out of the picture, and Willow was free to be seduced by him. He felt incredible.  
  
"Yes. I have to. I still love Oz, and," she glanced down at her watch, missing his furious look. "I have to go catch him before he leaves. Thank you, Spike." She grinned at him, and ran out the door.  
  
Spike watched her go in disbelief. He jumped up and ran to the door, throwing it open. Cursing the sun--and himself for being a vampire--he slammed it shut again. "Son of a bitch!"  
  
Because of him and his stupid, blasted idiocy, he'd forced her into Oz's arms. It had to have been the doubts he'd planted in her mind about Tara that did it. Future Willow was probably going to be pissed at him now. Pissed for messing with her life, and breaking her and Tara up. Pissed for sticking his nose in where it didn't belong.  
  
"Bloody hell!" He shoved at the lid of the sarcophagus and it went flying against the wall, falling to the floor. Amazingly enough, it didn't break. And then the door opened, and hope surged through him. If he could get to Willow before she got to Oz, there might be a chance to fix things. To stop that bastard from getting her.  
  
"Spike."  
  
Not Willow. Spike spun around, faced with an ugly demon stitched together with different parts. Had to be the infamous Adam. His eyes flickered briefly from the demon in front of him to the papers Willow had left for him. There hadn't been anything in there about Adam coming here. Crap, he had enough to deal with at the moment without adding in an all-powerful demon.  
  
Adam was watching him without expression. "Spike, I want you to come with me."  
  
Spike was not in the mood for this right now. He wanted to go to Willow. But first he had to get rid of the big ugly. "Do you?" He shrugged, looking agreeable. "Well, let's go then." He turned to leave, then spun back around, and punched Adam in the stomach. Pain shot through his hand. Adam stared at him, showing no signs of having even felt Spike's fist. Spike shook his hand. "Ow."  
  
"Come," Adam said, taking a step closer to Spike.  
  
Spike backed away from him. No way was he taking this guy on. Not alone anyhow. He knew from the papers Willow had left behind that Adam was nearly impossible to beat. They'd had to band together or some crap to beat him. And judging from the pain still throbbing through his hand, Willow hadn't been exaggerating.  
  
"You're going to help me with my problem," Adam told him, still watching him with that same creepy expression.  
  
"Why is that exactly?" Spike asked belligerently. Adam may be a super demon, but he couldn't just order Spike around like a child.  
  
"I'm going to help you with yours," Adam answered.  
  
Spike's head snapped up, his eyes looking for the truth in Adam's impenetrable gaze. Willow hadn't mentioned anything about... bloody hell. She hadn't wanted him to know. Well of course she didn't, hadn't he just argued with her a week ago over this very thing.  
  
Furious with Willow, Spike decided he'd do what Adam wanted. He'd get the chip out, and then he'd go find Willow. Pay her a little visit.  
  
  
  
(April 2000)  
  
Willow watched Buffy pace back and forth across Giles' floor. She was tempted to do the same thing, but she wasn't really a pacing type of person. She was more the sit-back-and-wait-quietly-in-a-chair type. Even if she did want to jump up and pace. She wouldn't. Oz would be fine. They always ended up fine, this was just one more thing they had to go through to end up fine.  
  
Guilt was also something she wouldn't give in to. Just because she had gone to Tara this morning didn't mean it was her fault Oz had freaked out and turned wolfy. Wasn't her fault that she hadn't been there for him, to help him. To calm him down. Nope. Not her fault at all. Her being at Spike's crypt, kissing him of all things, had nothing to do with Oz's current cell-like surroundings.  
  
"Something's wrong," Buffy told them, interrupting Willow's thoughts. "Riley usually returns my phone calls by now."  
  
"We can't wait much longer," Xander said, his concern warming Willow's heart.  
  
Her cold heart. Here they were, concerned with her ex-boyfriend, when she'd been in a vampire's lair betraying said ex-boyfriend. Sure, she'd told Spike she'd kissed him back to figure out who she wanted, but the truth was... she'd already made her decision. She'd kissed him simply because she'd enjoyed it. She'd already known who she wanted. Tara.  
  
And then Spike reminded her again that Tara might not have been completely truthful with her. Then he kissed her. And wow, had that been an experience. Again. The first time, she'd been drunk. This time, she was sober, and loving it. Her thoughts hadn't been of Oz, or Tara, only Spike, and then he released her, but she'd continued to kiss him. Covering her embarrassment had been the only thing on her mind.  
  
Willow tuned the conversation back in and was glad she did.  
  
"Okay," Buffy was saying. "Xander, you and I are gonna go in. We've done it before."  
  
No way were they leaving her here. "I'm going with you."  
  
Buffy shook her head. "No. Look, it's too dangerous, Will. Besides, I need you to help Giles hack into the city's electrical grid. We've gotta try to power down the Initiative."  
  
"Giles can do it without me," Willow insisted. "I can give him all the instructions, I can show him exactly what to do."  
  
"Of course," Giles agreed.  
  
"I-- I can't just sit here," Willow told them, desperate to make them understand.  
  
Buffy and Xander shared a look, then finally gave in. "Okay," Buffy agreed. "Okay, you can back us up." She sighed. "Now, the only way I know into the Initiative is through the elevator in the Lowell House. But my clearance is long gone."  
  
"So we grab a guy, make him take us," Xander said simply.  
  
"Or you could just use the back way," Spike said. They all turned toward the door to see Spike standing there. "Hell of a lot less bother."  
  
Willow's eyes widened, wondering what he was doing there. Happiness shot through her, followed closely by fear. Was he going to tell the others what she'd done? That she'd kissed him while Oz was being captured by the Initiative. That she'd thoroughly enjoyed kissing him. Acted like a hussy?  
  
Get a grip, she told herself. Oz was in danger, and all she could do was think about herself. And how Spike hadn't once looked her way.  
  
"How did you get in?" Giles asked.  
  
Willow watched Spike surreptitiously. He looked... cockier than usual. More arrogant. What was going on?  
  
"Door was unlocked," Spike chastised. "You might wanna watch that, Rupert. Someone dangerous could get in."  
  
"Or someone formerly dangerous and currently annoying," Buffy said snidely.  
  
Willow frowned at her, but kept silent. Sometimes they really did treat Spike atrociously. No wonder he hated them so much. And she wasn't even going to add that to her conscience. The fact that he hated her and she still wanted him wasn't an issue right now. Oz was. Only Oz.  
  
Spike was smiling at Buffy in amusement, looking extremely pleased with himself. "Now, now. None of that. Or I won't help you get Red's mongrel back."  
  
His eyes flickered briefly toward Willow, and she was surprised at how cold his gaze was. He was angry. At her. But, why? All she was guilty of was letting him kiss her. And then running off telling him she was going to go stop the man she loved from leaving. But, so what? He didn't care about her. A couple of small kisses didn't mean anything to a mean, evil century-old vampire who was currently still in love with Drusilla and sometimes shacked up with Harmony. Right? And what about the future her? Had she slept with Spike? Despite her best efforts, she hadn't gotten a concrete answer out of him on this point.  
  
But again, this wasn't the time.  
  
Especially since... how did Spike know about Oz? When she'd left him, during the day, he'd been as oblivious about Oz as she was. Now he knew. And she wasn't the only suspicious one. Everyone was looking at him rather distrustfully.  
  
"Bad news travels fast with us demons. We all like a good laugh," he explained with a chuckle.  
  
Willow frowned at him. How could he be so callous? Well, duh, she answered herself, he was a demon, and demons didn't care about anything except themselves. And they certainly didn't care about humans. Even if they did kiss them. But if that was true, which it was, then what was he doing here? Why was he helping?  
  
"Short of cash, Spike?" Giles sneered.  
  
Willow could've slapped her forehead in realization. Of course, that had to be it. He wanted money.  
  
"I happen to be seeking monetary gratification, yeah. But I also get a kick out of jackin' up those army ginks myself. I know how to find the big guy who can take you to Oz."  
  
And again his eyes found hers. There was fury there now. What the heck did he have to be furious about? He didn't care a thing about her. Like he said, he did things for three reasons; to torture Buffy, for fun, or because he wanted to.  
  
That first kiss hadn't been to torture Buffy, he'd told her that much. Which meant it was either for fun, or because he wanted to. Knowing Spike, it was the former. The second kiss was anyone's guess, but she was tempted to think it was for fun as well.  
  
"Uh-huh," Buffy was saying skeptically. "So what's the going rate on a wild goose chase, Spike?"  
  
Spike looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but he managed to refrain. "Fine, if you're not interested... but I was stuck in that hole, remember? And I've heard things from other guys who've gotten out. I can get you in. No alarms, no cameras... no waiting."  
  
Everyone looked at Buffy since it was her decision, but, Willow was ready to go with Spike whether Buffy agreed or not. Oz needed their help, and if Spike was the only way in, she would go with him. And if it was a trap? If someone was waiting there to kill them? Even Spike himself? She would still go.  
  
  
  
Later that night, the four of them walked through the woods toward wherever Spike was leading them. Willow hadn't gotten any alone time with Spike to talk to him, but then again, she wasn't sure she wanted to. She might not like what he had to say.  
  
Willow looked beside her at Buffy, who was wearing a white lab coat identical to hers, while Spike and Xander were wearing green army fatigues. They all looked very professional. Not at all like a bunch of teenagers about to break into a government run facility. Especially Spike. He actually looked rather sharp; different than she was used to seeing, but not in a bad way.  
  
He was kind of handsome. In a demonic way, she hastened to add. Thinking about Spike in any way other than as an evil demon was dangerous.  
  
"I've mentioned how much I'm gonna kill you if this is a scam, right?" Buffy asked Spike, breaking Willow out of her thoughts.  
  
"Look, would I wear this if I wasn't on the up and up?" Spike asked, gesturing to his outfit.  
  
Huh. From her thoughts, to his lips. Though she really did think he looked good, she couldn't let him know that. Or Buffy and Xander. So, she said the first thing that came to mind. "You do sort of look like an evil olive."  
  
He didn't even look at her. And she felt like an insignificant piece of nothing. Though, why she felt like that, she didn't know. Since when did she care what Spike thought? Care that he paid her the slightest bit of attention. Up until recently, she'd been extremely grateful every time he did overlook her, because that meant he might not kill her that time. Nothing had changed. She still shouldn't want his attention. Especially now.  
  
Focusing on the task at hand, Willow ignored Spike as well. Though, with him ignoring her, it was hard for him to notice that she was ignoring him, but she didn't care about that. Not one whit.  
  
"Guys," Xander said, oblivious to Willow's thoughts. "Check it out."  
  
Willow followed Xander's gaze, seeing a hidden doorway in the bushes ahead of them.  
  
Spike walked toward it, and pulled open the doors. "For a nasty town like Sunnydale, nobody seems to mind their locks," he marveled.  
  
Willow looked at Xander and Buffy. They looked as edgy as she felt. Something in Spike's manner was making her nervous. This didn't feel right.  
  
"You first," Buffy told Spike, motioning him onward.  
  
Spike rolled his eyes and went inside. The three teenagers followed him.  
  
  
  
Willow tried to catch spike's eye as they went through the halls, but he was still ignoring her. And then the lights went out, and blue emergency lights came on. Willow reached out, grabbing Xander. Her eyes were still adjusting to the new lighting when Xander yanked his arm away from her.  
  
Her eyes flickered to his, only it wasn't Xander. It was Spike, and he was watching her coldly. Xander and Buffy were farther ahead, stopped in front of a door.  
  
Straightening her back, she walked past him. If he wanted to be a jerk, then fine. She could be just as cold as him.  
  
Buffy kicked in the door and she and Xander burst into the Colonel's bedroom. The Colonel was in bed, and none too happy to see them. Buffy and Xander went straight to him, pointing their weapons at him. The Colonel reached out for something on the bedside table.  
  
"Hey," Buffy yelled quietly. She pointed her crossbow in his face, until he pulled his arm back. "You know who I am?" she asked.  
  
The Colonel looked from Buffy to Xander, then past them to Spike and Willow in the doorway. "Yeah."  
  
"Then you know I'm pretty good with this thing. Take us to him," Buffy told him.  
  
"Finn stays in the brig. Helping an HST escape is a court martial offense."  
  
Willow felt Spike stiffen beside her, and looked at him. This had to be kind of hard on him, she realized. Being back in here, after what these people had done to him, couldn't be easy... even for a soulless demon.  
  
Spike caught her look and raised an amused eyebrow at her. "Skip the pity, Red, it'll only get you killed."  
  
None of the others heard him, and in fact weren't even paying attention to them. "What's wrong with you?" she whispered.  
  
He leaned against the door jamb, crossing his arms over his chest. "Not a thing." He nodded toward the trio across the room, and went back to ignoring her.  
  
"You're only gonna make matters worse," the Colonel said.  
  
"Riley tried to help Oz escape?" Buffy asked, surprised.  
  
The Colonel looked from one to the other. "That's who you came for? The wolf?"  
  
"Guess we're two for one," Xander said.  
  
"Get dressed," Buffy told the Colonel. 


	19. What Comes part19

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, 6, 11, or 16.  
  
PART 19  
  
(November 2001)  
  
Willow's eyes snapped open, and she found herself staring at Tara, who was staring at her with a worried look. Looking beyond her ex-girlfriend, she saw the Magic Box... which she hadn't been in since the night before everyone was killed. And, wow, look at all the dust and-- books on the floor?  
  
"Willow. Are you all right?" Tara reached out tenderly to touch Willow's face, but then stopped with a sideways glance at Spike. "You had me-- us worried." Her voice lowered a little, and she moved closer to whisper, "Spike was really worried about you." A tremulous smile followed, and then she straightened up and moved back, giving Willow space.  
  
Willow tossed a look at Spike too, and found him sleeping, or knocked out. "I'm fine," she told Tara. No thanks to Spike, she thought silently. What the heck had that big suckfest been about in there? Why had he bitten her so hard? So carelessly. So-- shaking her head at herself, she got to her feet. "Why's he still zonked?"  
  
Tara shrugged. "Side effect of the spell, probably. Um, you know what? I don't really want to be here when he wakes up... I think I have issues, so, I'm just gonna go now." She paused and the smile was gone, replaced by her serious face. "I'm really glad you're safe, Willow."  
  
Willow smiled broadly and hugged Tara tight, kissing her. There was no passion in the kiss, it was just a goodbye kiss. "Bye, Tara," Willow whispered, dropping her arms to her sides. "Thank you for... well, everything."  
  
Tara shook her head. "I'll always be there, Willow. Whenever you need me. We're still friends, right?"  
  
"Still friends," Willow assured her. "Be careful." A smile lifted her lips. "I hear there're bad things out there."  
  
Tara smiled back, turning away with a wave. She gathered up some books, and then she was gone.  
  
Left alone, except for the sleeping vampire, Willow went around the table picking up all the rest of the books that'd been thrown to the floor. Looked like a really intense research session had just occurred. A sad smile lifted her lips. She could almost imagine she heard Buffy in the training room, beating the stuffing out of Xander in the puffy suit. Could almost hear Xander's grunts of pain, and his distant voice as he tried to get out of being her human punching bag.  
  
Once all the books were closed and on the table, she decided she'd shelve them too. As she climbed the ladder, she could almost hear Anya threatening the customers to have a nice day. A half sob, half laugh escaped her. Giles would chastise Anya in lieu of Xander being near to do it, while telling Dawn to put something down, or to be careful because the clawed frog's foot could turn them all into inanimate objects if she aimed it at them.  
  
Dawn never knew whether he was serious or not, but the others did, and they'd share a grin as Dawn hastily dropped the object. More sobs came and she had to sit down until they passed. They were all dead, except Spike and Tara. She and Spike could've died tonight. What if she'd died without ever telling Spike how she felt about him? What if he'd died never knowing she was in love with him?  
  
She hadn't gotten to tell Xander and Buffy one last time, that she loved them. Never told Buffy that she was her hero. Or told Xander that he was her best friend in the world, better than any brother she could've had, and he'd understand that it wasn't icky that she used to be in love with him, but now thought of him as a brother. She'd never told Giles how much he meant to her. How, if her own father had ever met Giles, he'd be jealous 'cause she loved Giles just as much as him. And Anya, she'd never gotten to tell Anya thank you for making Xander so happy, and for loving him so much. Never told Dawn that, even though she was only a newly born mystical energy key, she loved her like a little sister she'd known her whole life, and she didn't think it had anything to do with the false memories the monks planted.  
  
Being here, in this shop of ghosts and this town of demons made Willow realize that time was precious. Oh, she'd always known it, had it brought home to her way too many times to count, but she often forgot that lesson. It was a hazard of living on the Hellmouth.  
  
After wiping her eyes, she shelved the books with a lighter heart. As soon as Spike woke up, she'd tell him how she felt and hope like heck that he felt the same.  
  
Twenty minutes, and lots of cleaning later, Spike finally woke up with a groan. Willow, sitting in a chair at the table, reading a book on shapeshifters that she'd found, turned to him with a smile. "Rip van Winkle's awake."  
  
Spike eyed her warily, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there. Willow knew how he felt, she was kinda feeling that way too, but she knew that it was now or never. Closing the book quietly, she stood up.  
  
"Willow--" he began, but she cut him off.  
  
"Wait. Please. Before we get all angst-y and dramatic, I have something I want to say, and if I don't say it now, I won't say it at all, and I really want to say it." She paused, realizing that wasn't exactly the truth. "Well, I actually don't want to say it at all, but I *have* to say it." She nodded in affirmation of her words. "Gotta say it. Have to."  
  
Spike looked away, toward the back room. Wishing he was there instead of here? Well tough patootie. She had some love declaring to do.  
  
Kneeling down in front of him, she took a deep, steadying breath, and folded her hands in front of her. Realizing she looked like she was about to start praying, she unclasped her hands and set them on her thighs. Ignoring the images her position brought to mind, she plunged right in. "Spike, I--"  
  
"Willow," he interrupted, swallowing, and glancing past her, "I think I need to--"  
  
She held up a hand, forestalling him. "I really need to get this out now."  
  
"Me too," he mumbled, leaning his head back against the wall with a sigh.  
  
Well, okay, he had something important to say too, so she wasted no more time. She looked him straight in the eye and just said it. "Spike, I love you..."  
  
The words were hardly out before he was standing up, pushing her out of the way, and rushing out of the room. Willow stared after him in confusion. That was the last reaction she'd ever expected from him. Hurt was starting to move through her, but then she heard the bathroom door slam shut and the distant sounds of Spike retching. Oh, strike that last thought. *This* was the last reaction she'd ever expected from him.  
  
Her eyes widened in horror. Vampires didn't get sick. They didn't throw up, they weren't able to physically get ill... but she'd made Spike throw up by her declaration of love?  
  
More tears filled her eyes, and she decided to slink away in shame. Leave before she had to face him again. Maybe even leave town, forever, just so she didn't ever have to face him again.  
  
But she was still rooted to the spot when Spike entered the room again, leaning against the doorjamb with a miserable expression on his face. "What the bloody hell was that?" His eyes were on her, but kept sliding away, then finally settled somewhere on the ceiling before sliding shut. "Uh, c-- could you say that again?"  
  
Could she? Yes. Would she? No. It was possible he was just trying to ridicule her more, right? After all, she'd just made him throw up for the first time in over a century. But, maybe it hadn't been her, or her love declaration, maybe it was something else. Maybe--  
  
"Willow?" His voice, still sounding rather tortured, interrupted her thoughts.  
  
She dragged her eyes off the floor long enough to look at him. He didn't look any better than he had before. Kind of worse, in fact, but he did sound sincere. Could she really think he was just making her repeat it to ridicule her? No, he wasn't like that anymore. Ignoring the last part of that nightmare dreamscape they'd just gotten out of, she walked over to him, once again looked him straight in the face and said, "I'm in lo--"  
  
And then he was gone, running to the bathroom once again. Willow nodded to herself, wiping at the tears that were now falling. Gathering the three books she'd decided might help them against the shapeshifter, she left the Magic Box.  
  
After the dry heaving was done, Spike dropped to the floor, resting his forehead against the cool tile wall. "I love you too," he whispered miserably, then banged the back of his head on the wall behind him in anger. "Ow."  
  
A few minutes of silent griping and bitching later, he got unsteadily to his feet and gripped the edges of the sink with both hands, swallowing back the nausea threatening to once again overwhelm him. Whatever was happening to him, it was making him feel more miserable than he'd felt in over a century, save for that organ breaking his spine.  
  
Yanking open the mirrored medicine cabinet, he grabbed a tube of toothpaste that proclaimed its 'minty freshness', and turned the water on. After twice brushing his teeth with his finger, he swilled some disgusting mouthwash, spit it out, rinsed his mouth, then left the bathroom behind.  
  
He smelled her before he saw her, and his head shot up in surprise. She hadn't left, or she'd come back. Either way, he had to hold himself still, letting her make the first move. It was a pride thing.  
  
She was standing between the table and the counter, facing him in the doorway, her arms wrapped around a couple of big books like they were life preservers. Her eyes were swimming with unshed tears, and her lower lip was trembling just a little.  
  
Spike didn't think he'd ever seen anything more pathetic, or more beautiful. Screw his pride. She looked miserable, and he didn't want to be the cause of that misery.  
  
As he pushed away from the wall and started toward her, she shook her head and took a single step back, so he stopped.  
  
"I love you," she told him, her voice shaky, but strong.  
  
It came out sounding more like a challenge than a declaration of love, and he had to bite back a smile. His heart was trying to do that soaring thing again too. So much joy went through him at her words that he had to remind himself he was a vampire that hated these feelings. Ah, heck, who was he kidding? At the moment, he was the happiest vampire in the world.  
  
She smiled very briefly. "Okay, so, yay, I didn't make you sick this time." Taking a deep breath, she blinked back tears and continued on as if she were stating battle plans. "If you don't love me back, well, that's, you know, not of the good, but I can live with it. I've been dumped before, though this isn't exactly the same thing." Her brow furrowed, and she shifted the books in her arms. "I loved Xander for forever, and I lived. I'll survive again. I mean, yeah, it was hard, but I did it, and now... here I am." She frowned, looking around the dusty shop. "Here I am," she repeated more to herself than to him. "Once again in love, and probably about to get my heart broken. Again." She turned a brave, self-mocking smile his way. "But hey, who'd want to live without all that pain and despair? Life would be boring."  
  
He nodded, keeping his expression serious. It probably wouldn't help matters if he laughed at her. "Can I move now?" She nodded regally. He closed the remaining distance between them, but once he reached her, he simply looked down at her, studying her face to make sure he wanted to do this.  
  
And damn his mind for trying to stop him. It was reminding him of Buffy's dismissal of him, of the pain he'd felt when she had Willow uninvite him from her house. It tried reminding him of how horrible he felt when Dru left him for one demon or another, and how much pain he'd been in when she wouldn't shut up about Angelus. It whispered about betrayal, and how he'd never wanted to put himself in this position again.  
  
None of that mattered. Only Willow. She was the only thing that mattered, and he had the key to making her hurt less. He knew how to smooth that frown from her brow. His thoughts cleared suddenly, and he had only one truly coherent thought.  
  
Make Willow happy.  
  
"I told you before; you're the 'more' I've been searching for my whole life. And I love you a whole hell of a lot more than I should."   
  
The books in her arms slipped through her suddenly lax grip and fell to the floor at her feet, in much the same way as he wanted to do. Her breath caught as she stepped over the pile of pages, and she allowed herself to be picked up and held by him. He swung her free of her book-prison and set her back down. Her own arms wrapped around his neck, hugging him tighter than a vampire wrestler. But he wouldn't have had it any other way.  
  
She sucked in a few hitching breaths and kissed his neck, then his cheek, but just before her mouth settled over his, she pulled back, biting her lip.  
  
He frowned down at her, and tried to kiss her, but she once again pulled back. "What gives?" he asked grumpily.  
  
"Um, you have pukey mouth... no offense, but--"  
  
"Hey," he protested, quite offended despite her reassurances, "I brushed. Twice. Even used mouthwa--"  
  
Her mouth smothered the rest, and he chuckled. Not like he had anything important to say anyway. Nothing was more important at the moment than holding Willow, and touching her face; kissing her delicious little mouth that sometimes ran away with her, and wanting it to run away on parts of him; enjoying the feeling of having her hands sliding up under his shirt. He pulled back with a groan, resting his forehead against hers.  
  
She was breathing heavily, but her eyes were shining as they stared into his. A wide smile spread across her face.  
  
"I think we need to research," he mumbled, kissing her thoroughly. "And, you might not want to touch me a lot." Reconsidering his words, he grinned crookedly, "Well, at least not from the chest down, or the hips up. Other than that, feel free to touch wherever you want." He waggled his brows at her, and leaned forward to kiss her again.  
  
Once again, she pulled away, frowning. They really needed to stop all this moving away from each other, they'd never get anything accomplished if they didn't continue with the touching and the kissing. And the more pleasant things.  
  
"So it really wasn't me that made you run to the bathroom?"  
  
Spike laughed, wrapping his arms tightly around her. "Bloody hell, no. How could you saying the one thing I wanted to hear more than anything make me upchuck?"  
  
"Really?" she asked, her voice small. "I mean, really you wanted to hear... *that* more than anything? Even more than maybe, 'Hey, the implant's gone and will never cause you problems again'? Or more than, 'Buffy's alive and she and Dru want to have a threesome with you'? Really?" Her voice, though teasing, held so much hope that it almost hurt him to think of dashing that hope. Good thing he wasn't going to then.  
  
"Even more," he assured her. "Infinitely more. Exponentially more--"  
  
She laughed, swatting at his arm. "Okay, okay, Overstating Guy." She stepped back a few feet, and motioned to the books she'd dropped. "Guess we should figure out what makes a vampire sick then. I'm thinking spell." Now it was her turn to waggle her eyebrows at him. "The faster you're all better, the faster we can do stuff."  
  
He laughed, reaching out to pull her to him again. She yelped and landed flush against him with a giggle. "Stomach's already all better," he whispered, before devouring her mouth with his. This was a kiss with a purpose, not just a pleasurable kiss, but a kiss that was meant to lead to other things. He lifted his head from hers briefly, looking around the mostly dark shop. The table caught his eye and he started to back her up to it.  
  
She looked behind herself and then back at him, widening her eyes. "We can't," she whispered as if there was a crowd of people standing around listening to them. Her eyes darted this way and that. Searching for the non-existent people? "We researched there, like, a million times. It'd be... weird."  
  
"We can," he assured her, lifting her up onto the smooth surface, "and we will." He slid his hands under her shirt, raising it with slow, deliberate movements. "There'll be no weirdness. I promise."  
  
Instead of protesting, she nodded excitedly, looking like she was about to do something naughty and there was a chance she could get caught at any moment. "Okay." Her own hands slid under his shirt, but then were removed. "Are you sure you're all right?"  
  
He reached around to unhook her bra, and it only took two tries before the lacy white material was falling to her lap. "I'm sure," he breathed. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I'm sure."  
  
Her smile widened and all doubt fled. "Good, because I kinda want you." Her hands scraped lightly against his stomach, as he leaned down to nip at her delectable lips. Both were happy to note the lack of negative response to her fingernails on his abdomen. He helped her rid him of his T-Shirt, and quickly toed off his boots.  
  
His eyes darted to her jeans before returning to her face. "Take them off."  
  
She hopped off the table, bumping him in the process. He groaned at the contact, as it made parts of him even more aware of her than they already were.  
  
"Sorry," she mumbled, unbuttoning her jeans and pushing them hastily down her hips. Stepping on the cuffs, she tried desperately to get away from the heavy material, but it seemed to want to keep her imprisoned. "Ugh. Shoes," she chuckled, leaning against the table and bending down to pull them off.  
  
Spike was having a few problems of his own. He unbuttoned his black jeans and tried to yank the zipper down but it got stuck halfway. He yanked harder and broke the little tab thing off, but at least they were open now, and he could pull them off without taking a pair of scissors to them. Seeing Willow's struggles with her shoes, he tossed his pants on the pile of books a few feet away and knelt down to help.  
  
She lifted her head, kissing him. "Thanks. I seem to be stuck." A pained grunt left her lips a second later as he jerked a sneaker off one foot.  
  
He'd used too much force, he realized with a wince. Her back had smacked the edge of the table.  
  
"Ow."  
  
"I'm sorry." He spun her around, trying to get a look at her back, but she shook her head and toed off her other shoe.  
  
"It's good. I'm good." Her smile turned quite evil. "Let's be good together."  
  
"Always," he mumbled, taking her lower lip between his teeth and biting it just the tiniest bit. He wanted to feel her skin against his, so he pulled her up with him, not bothering to halt the kiss, and pressed her against him; chest to chest, thigh to thigh.  
  
Her hand, the one without the cast, curled around his neck, holding him tightly to her. She sighed into his mouth, closing her eyes, and resting her forehead against his. "I love you, Spike, but you're too slow."  
  
He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her back on to the table. "Impatience is a bad trait, love, taking your time has its rewards."  
  
"So I've been told." Apparently she'd decided to be daring for once in her life, and show him where her impatience would get him. Her eyes dropped to his stomach, then lower.  
  
He sucked in a breath when she wrapped her hand around him. "Then again..." He hopped up on the table beside her and leaned back on his elbows, letting her have her wicked way with him.  
  
She watched his face as she stroked him, watched as his eyes darkened with desire. His jaw clenched tight, and his eyes threatened to slide closed, but he managed to keep them open and fixed on her face as she brought him pleasure. When she ran her thumb over the tip of him, his hips jerked forward.  
  
Her small, pink tongue darted out to lick dry lips, and his eyes flickered to yellow, he could feel it. She knew what he wanted. Sliding off the table, she leaned down and took him in her mouth in one smooth motion. As soon as she closed her mouth around him, he dropped back with a groan, gripping the edges of the table.  
  
She worked her mouth in the most delightful ways for a few minutes, and then he could stand it no longer. He halted her movements, gazing down at her. She looked back in question.  
  
Seeing such unrestrained desire on her face and in her eyes, he wasn't able to keep from groaning and closing his eyes. "I don't want to... uh... in your mouth... and if you don't stop now, I will."  
  
"Oh." That, Willow thought. She'd always been curious about it. She and Oz had never done more than have sex. Sometimes she stroked him with her hand, but never had she used her mouth on him. And now was her chance.  
  
She ran her tongue along the underside of him, and he jerked against her, forcing him further into her mouth. Sliding her tongue around him, she flicked the tip, tasting him. Her hands splayed against his stomach, feeling the muscles tightening under her palms. She heard Spike moaning, and felt a tremendous amount of power. She was doing this to him, making him lose control. Making him feel things. It was a heady experience. But all too soon it was over.  
  
He pulled her up, sliding to the edge of the table as he did so. "Game over," he grinned, sliding her panties off and drawing her closer.  
  
"What--" she tried to say, but his mouth smothered hers, and she lost her train of thought. He jumped down from the table and lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. "Oh." She actually meant more than that simple statement, but she couldn't be bothered to actually say them. He slid inside of her, forcing her to gasp in pleasure. Her lips found his once again as her inner muscles clenched him tighter. His hands slid under her rear and lifted her slightly, then let her drop back down. "Oh," was once again her reply.  
  
Spike's laughter shook both of them, sending delicious shivers through her. Threading her hands through his hair, she gasped as he thrust inside of her again and again. Her eyes closed. She loved this man. Loved him more than life itself. And he loved her back. It was almost too much to believe. Was Tara right? Were they actually soul mates?  
  
Just as she felt herself tumbling over the edge, she vowed never to fall out of love with him, and to prove to him everyday just how she deeply she felt for him.  
  
"I love you," she whispered into his ear.  
  
"God, Willow." His own release followed his words, and she smiled against his neck. "I love you too," he whispered back.  
  
  
  
Sometime later, Spike slid down the wall they'd somehow ended up against, and cradled her in his lap and arms.  
  
"We have to talk," she told him.  
  
"Do we have to?" he nearly whined, "I can think of at least sixty better things to be doing right now." He leaned forward, nipping at her lip.  
  
She sighed, losing herself to the feeling of him, but then pushed him back slightly. "We really do need to talk. About that bite. I think I figured it out. Why you did it."  
  
He leaned back against the wall, dropping his hands to her waist. "Fine, we can do the talking thing, but it had better not lead to arguing, because I intend to repeat *this*." He gestured to them, then traced his fingers slowly up her hips to her sides.  
  
She giggled and squirmed away from his ticklish fingers, slapping his hands down. "Okay, so here's my theory: I made you do it. It was my fault you bit me. You were completely blameless."  
  
He thought about that for a second, nodding thoughtfully as he stared up at the ceiling, then shook his head. "Don't take the blame away from me. Don't be a bloody martyr." He lifted her off of his lap and stood up, walking toward his duster.  
  
Willow watched him fish through his pockets for his crumpled pack of cigarettes, and had to force her mind back to her reasoning behind taking all his blame from him. "I'm not being a martyr. I think I did like the Djin said, what I wanted most."  
  
"And what's that?" he asked sarcastically, "me killing you? Yeah, I can see how you came to that conclusion." He stuck an unlit cigarette between his lips and searched his pockets again for his lighter.  
  
"No, I didn't want you to kill me," she scoffed, "but I did want all my guilt gone. All the guilt, shame, and just all around bad feelings. And aren't those things that vampires love to embrace? What makes you a demon?"  
  
"Yeah," he said, considering her words carefully, "I guess it is. Part of it anyway. Also lots of unhealthy doses of rage, pain, despair... the usual." He flipped open his Zippo and lit the cigarette, drawing in a deep breath of Cancer-inducing smoke.  
  
"So, see? I wanted to get rid of all that guilt and stuff from sleeping with William, and cheating on Tara, and then with you. And I... am just a big ho," she finished, sounding a bit pout-y even to her own ears.  
  
Spike's, 'Aha!' and 'I knew it!' while pointing at her, had her nodding guiltily. He once again began fishing through his duster pockets, and she had to wonder if he had a kitchen sink in there too.  
  
He tossed something at her, while gathering their hastily thrown about clothing. She caught the dark blue material one handed, and looked down to see what she'd won. "Spike. Did anyone ever tell you how *not* sexy it is to pull someone else's underwear out of your pocket? Especially after having just done..." she gestured to the table, "that!" Anger was floating through her, and she had to stop herself from marching over to him and smacking him in the back of the head with her cast.  
  
"Didn't think you'd mind," he chuckled, tossing more clothing at her, this time her blouse. "Found them in my crypt," he mentioned conversationally.  
  
Willow shoved her arms into the sleeves of her blouse, and yanked it down, ripping it a little with her none too gentle treatment of the thin fabric. "Didn't think I'd mind?" she repeated furiously. "You throw somebody's underwear at me and expect me not to care? You stupid..." unable to find any word suitable for what she thought him at that moment, she stomped her foot, wincing as her bare heel hit the tile floor. "Are they Harmony's? And, what? You thought," she deepened her voice, trying to sound like Spike, "'I'll shag the witch and then toss Harmony's underwear at her. That'll be fun!'" She grabbed her jeans off the floor and shoved her feet into them, then yanked them up, buttoning them with shaky fingers.  
  
He was watching her as he stepped casually into his own pants, as if she was overreacting, or being foolish. He slowly removed the cigarette from his lips, and shook his head. "Not Harmony's," he told her. "They're yours."  
  
"Mine?" she repeated stupidly. "Those aren't..." she tossed a quick look at the blue panties she'd dropped on the floor, and well, now that he mentioned it... she did have a pair of dark blue underwear. Hadn't worn them in a while though. And why? Because she hadn't seen them. "Ew." Now she did go over and slap him, on the arm though, and without the cast. "That's disgusting, Spike. Gross. Didn't you learn anything from Buffy? Stealing women's underwear or other clothing, and doing..." she glanced at the underwear in disgust, and saw that they were torn. "Ew! What did you do to them?" she yelled.  
  
He turned a serious look her way. "Didn't do anything *to* them, I did it *with* them. We're in love, Willow, your panties and I, and it's a deep and lasting love that occasionally requires physical--"  
  
She snorted with laughter at the unrestrained mirth in his eyes. "That's really-- well, you know, still sick, but funny."  
  
"Relax, Willow. I found them in William's chair cushions way back when."  
  
Her eyes widened, and she could've sworn she felt a little hurt in there. Yep, definitely hurt, though why, she had no idea. "He's sleeping with her? Robin?"  
  
Spike was shaking his head as he looked around for the rest of their clothes. "No, they're yours. You're sleeping with him. Ah," he mumbled, bending down to pick up her tennis shoes. "Shoes. And it stops. Now. No more sleeping with anyone else."  
  
"Oh, please," she scoffed, "like I'm sleeping with everyone in town."  
  
"I mean it, Willow. I'm the jealous type. Who wouldn't be after living with Dru's infidelities for over a century? I ever hear rumors of you being with someone other than me, I'll kill the person. Unless it's a human, then I'll hire someone else to do it." He stared down at her, his face dead serious.  
  
"Well, isn't that a mood breaker," she said softly, grabbing her shoes from him and sitting down to put them on. She had no intention of sleeping with anyone else. Spike was the only one she wanted. Okay, yeah, she'd cheated on Oz sort of, kissed Xander anyway, but that's all, nothing more. And the Tara cheating only came about because of Tara, and-- really she needed to stop placing blame on everyone else and just own up to her shortcomings.  
  
She'd cheated on everyone. She was a bad, bad person who didn't deserve love. But, once again, she'd found it. And it'd found her. She looked over at Spike. He was leaning against the counter, smoking his cigarette as he watched her. Tying her laces, she dropped her foot to the floor and stood up.  
  
"We should go before someone calls the cops." Bending down, she collected the books she'd dropped in her happiness, wrapped her arms around them again, and gestured toward the back.  
  
Spike followed her into the training room after gathering his duster, and two pairs of her underwear from the floor. Face flaming, Willow left the Magic Box behind. 


	20. What Comes part20

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, 6, 11, or 16.  
  
PART 20  
  
Without needing to discuss it, Willow and Spike both headed in the direction of Spike's crypt. Conversation was almost nonexistent due to the fact that they were both watching out for evil creatures bent on ruining their night. Plus that big ole honkin' threat he'd just tossed out there. She wasn't upset about it though, and she had no right to be. Understanding his jealous nature was easy.  
  
After a few blocks, Spike suddenly stopped, pressing her back against the brick façade of Harry's Garage. She looked around, wondering if it was a vampire, a demon, or a shapeshifter. Before she could ask, she found out rather quickly that it was a vampire, but he was hardly out to ruin their night. In fact, as Spike's mouth settled over hers, she was quite happy for the interruption.  
  
She was panting and breathless by the time he pulled away, smirking. Bending down to gather the poor, abused books she'd once again dropped, she had to be thankful they weren't old, or collector's editions.  
  
"What was that for?" she asked him, positive that her grin was now a permanent feature on her face.  
  
He took two of the heavier tomes from her and shrugged. "I need a reason?"  
  
"Nope," she assured him. "Feel free to do that whenever you want. In fact, I demand it. And I'd like to place future requests." She knew she was acting silly and giddy, but she was in love. Cloud nine was like, ten stories below her at the moment. Being in love was the best feeling ever. No, strike that. Being in love and being loved back was the best feeling ever.  
  
They made it to Spike's crypt twenty minutes later, much slower than it should've taken them. Who knew Spike had such a penchant for groping and kissing? Giles' poor books were taking a huge beating, and she was once again thankful for them not being prized possessions.  
  
Almost as soon as they were through the door, Spike dropped the books to the floor. They landed with a loud thump, one right after the other. His eyes stayed fixed on her face as he kicked the door shut behind him and started toward her. She felt a weird sense of déjà vu. William had stalked her in a similar fashion that first time they'd slept together, and maybe now wasn't the best time to be thinking of William. Even if he was Spike.  
  
She set her book on his bed, backing away from him. "Um," she said, licking her suddenly dry lips, "I should really..." she paused, forgetting what she was saying when he pulled his shirt off over his head. Taking a much needed breath after staring at him without breathing for a good ten seconds, she shook her head and continued. "Really, uh... oh yeah, look up a reason for you getting sick."  
  
"Uh-huh," he mumbled, running his hand absently over his bare chest as he paced closer, in no way trying to bring attention to himself, she was sure. "You should definitely look into that."  
  
She could see that he had no clue what they were talking about, and no intention of letting her research. "Will you stop that?" she asked, backing away another step. As much as she wanted to simply jump into his arms and have a marathon sex session, she needed to figure this out. Plus the shapeshifter. She had new resources, and she intended to find something before the decade was out. It wasn't suddenly going to be put on hold just because they'd finally admitted their feelings to one another.  
  
"No," he returned, grinning as he moved with her.  
  
She put the sarcophagus between them, and reached across to grab his hands, holding him there so he couldn't move around to her side. "Spike. Hello? What if you get sick again? What if it's going to get worse?" Seeing he still wasn't convinced, she made a disgusted face. "What if it happens in the middle of... something important? No offense, but that's not something I'd like to experience. Ever."  
  
Now he looked equally as disgusted. "Yeah, I think researching is good. Go ahead," he told her generously, "research away. I'll watch the telly."  
  
"Hey," she protested, "you could help, you know. We could cover more ground that way."  
  
He turned her hands around in his, and kissed her palm before dropping them and heading toward his chair. "If I help you, we'll be covering ground, but it won't have anything to do with books or research." His grin was huge as he bent to turn his TV on. "All you have to do is give me the word, and I'll be there to help in a heartbeat."  
  
She snorted, rolling her eyes at his wink. "Gee thanks, Spike. I'll be done in no time now."  
  
Without a lot of choices for sitting spaces, she climbed on top of his stone bed, hanging her legs off the side and setting the book on her lap. Unfortunately, she was facing Spike, and his occasional looks over at her were not really occasional, and more of the all-the-time variety. She only knew this because her glances up at him were equally as all-the-time as his. And she was getting nothing done. Couldn't remember one word she'd read. After the millionth look at Spike, she toed off her shoes and rolled over onto her stomach, and scooted up until her head was near the top of his bed. His pillow went under her arms, and the book took the pillow's place.  
  
Much better. She could read, and not see Spike unless she wanted to contort herself into all sorts of weird and painful positions, and his pillow smelled like him. Crossing her unhurt arm on top of her casted one, she rested both atop his pillow and laid her head down, setting about reading. The sound of the TV in the background and Spike's occasional laughter was more normal to her than her house with her parents in it.  
  
How weird was that?  
  
Half an hour later, she finally found it. The spell Tara had used to send Spike into her dreams. It was similar to the one she'd used to go into Buffy's mind when she went catatonic, but slightly different. Going into dreams was different than going into someone's thoughts and memories it seemed. And look, a major side effect of doing the spell was severe nausea. Probably to warn off anyone from doing the spell for evil purposes, or from doing it a lot. It went away on its own. Good thing Spike wasn't real prone to human frailties, otherwise she was sure he'd still be in the bathroom at the Magic Box becoming intimately acquainted with the toilet bowl.  
  
"Found it," she called over her shoulder, not bothering to contort herself to see him. "It's a side effect of the spell Tara did on you, and it's probably already worn off. How're you feeling?"  
  
"Bloody peachy," he said from beside her.  
  
Oh!" She jumped in surprise, and smacked him on the arm. "Scare me to death."  
  
He laughed at the disgruntled look on her face, and leaned down to kiss her. His hand rested on the curve of her back, not moving, but damn if it didn't cause little shivers of want and need to sweep through her.  
  
She looked up at him, and saw, not his usual smirk gracing his lips, but a soft, tender look mixed in with a whole lot of lust and desire. It was the same expression she'd seen on his face when he looked at Buffy. And now it was for her.  
  
She sat up rather clumsily, banging her cast on the stone a few times, but finally ended up in a position to face him. Kneeling on the hard stone, she wondered if he could possibly get a mattress or two, maybe even a real bed. "You know, they've made huge advances in bedding since you were human."  
  
"You want a bed?" he asked, but before she could do much more than nod, he was gesturing to her book. "All done here?"  
  
She looked from the book to him. Was she done? He was certainly looking really inviting and sexy and lusty. His hair, usually slicked back, was messed up from their earlier romping session in the Magic Box, and all the kissing and groping on the way home... and it looked so soft and inviting to the touch. One lock had fallen over his forehead, and she reached up to brush it back, letting her hand linger longer than necessary.  
  
A sigh escaped her as she dropped her hand. They still needed to find the stupid shapeshifter. But why was she so gung-ho for doing this now, especially when all she wanted to do was be with Spike. "You know, I think I'm all researched out. Yep. Couldn't look at another word. Turn another page. Understand a single spell."  
  
His grin now, was filled with a lot of that smirking it'd lacked earlier. "You don't say," he whispered, leaning closer to her. Instead of kissing her like she wanted him to do, he pulled her off of the sarcophagus and walked her to the end of it. "Come on." He yanked something up--a door, she realized--and gestured to the hole left behind. "After you."  
  
Now, to say she wasn't a little nervous would be a lie, but to say she was scared would be more than an exaggeration. She trusted Spike, wholly and completely. She just didn't know what to expect from the deep, dark hole that possibly led to the sewers. Shrugging, she descended the ladder into absolute darkness. A second later, she saw Spike's shape descend the ladder, blocking the meager light from above, creating even more darkness. And then light flared bright and she could see a lantern, held by Spike.  
  
He walked away from her, taking the light with him. "Stay there."  
  
From what she could see, there were stone walls, possibly dirt. Carved dirt walls. Kinda smelled a little musty, but there was also something else there. Something that reminded her of Spike. "Wow," she muttered. "A hole in the ground. Every girl's dream home. Where's the Trading Spaces crew when you need them?"  
  
Spike's laughter drifted over to her as she heard his lighter flick open. He lit another lantern, and turned it up all the way. Light flooded the underground chamber and Willow had to gasp.  
  
"Wow," she muttered again, but this time she meant it. There was a huge bed in the corner, covered in, what else? Silk sheets and blankets. Rugs covered the floor, a dresser was against one wall, and nightstands too, pretty much everything one could need for a bedroom. Even lights. Electric lights.  
  
She turned the switch on the lamp beside her, and light happened. Spike joined her, grinning from ear to ear at her stunned expression. His hand covered hers, still on the light's switch and turned it off. "Your bed," he said smugly, gesturing grandly to the--once again, huge came to mind--bed.  
  
"When did... you mean this has been here the whole time? And you never once... well, no, Buffy never mentioned a bed when she told me about the chains, and Drusilla, and wow."  
  
"I think that's been covered," he laughed. "Been gathering stuff for a few months. Got tired of sleeping on that stone slab, and craved a little more comfort." Drawing her over to the bed, he sat on the edge of it. Shirtless. On his bed. Looking at her like she was a piece of chocolate.  
  
  
  
Waking up in Spike's bed, with Spike wrapped around her, was a little on the weird side. She'd done it before, but never with all the ingredients thrown together at once. A real bed, Spike, her, sex, love.  
  
She reached out, smoothing her hand down his face, to his shoulder, shaking him awake. After a night filled with lots of sex and not much else, he looked perfect, if a little mussed. She, on the other hand, had bed hair, a bad case of morning breath, and an urgent need to pee.  
  
His eyes popped open, alert to the point of scary. When he saw her, his face softened, and his eyes melted her heart. "It's morning," he mumbled, stretching languidly. "Why are you awake at this ungodly hour?" His eyes flickered to the clock on the nightstand and he groaned. "Extremely ungodly hour," he muttered.  
  
"Noon is an ungodly hour?" she asked, sitting up with the blanket pulled to her chest. They may have had much sex recently, and be in love, but she still wasn't about to just drop all modesty and bare everything.  
  
"It is to me, and every other vampire out there. A lot of demons too." He frowned at her as she leaned over the side of the bed and pulled her blouse on. "Going somewhere?"  
  
"Yeah. To the nearest bathroom." She blushed, chiding herself for being embarrassed about a normal human need. "Wouldn't happen to have a master bathroom hidden around here, would ya?" she laughed, tossing the sheet back and climbing out of bed in search of her pants.  
  
"Not exactly a master bath, but useable. Has running water, and toothpaste, mouthwash. Everything a human needs, not to mention the hygienically inclined creature of the night."  
  
She turned back to face him, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"  
  
He looked away, shrugging. She thought he was embarrassed, but he was only searching for his ever present cigarettes. "Got a lot of humans traipsing through here, don't I?" Realizing what he'd said, he shook his head at himself. "Did. Past tense. And the little one, she was over here all the time, begging for stories." He pulled a cigarette out, and was about to light it when he saw her look. "What?"  
  
"You should really quit smoking. It's disgusting. Tastes really gross." She sat down to put her shoes on, sighing when he lit it anyway.  
  
He smirked, smacking his lips. "Tastes fine to me."  
  
Her eyes shot to his at the familiar words. William had said the exact same thing when she'd chastised him for smoking. It made sense that they'd say similar things, they were the same person, after all. But still, it was creepy.  
  
His grin widened when she stared at him. He leaned back against the headboard, blowing smoke into the air above his head, and she knew he was going to say the same thing William had.  
  
"Nummy," they said together.  
  
Spike's grin faded. He was trying so hard not to look suspicious, but his confused expression was pretty pathetic, and she didn't buy it for a second. "How did you know what I was going to say?"  
  
"Because," she answered, tying her lace and dropping her foot to the floor, "I've already had this conversation with you."  
  
Spike's eyes narrowed, and she just knew he was going to start an argument. One she didn't want to have, at least not yet.  
  
"Bathroom?" she reminded him.  
  
He motioned behind her with his eyes, which were still narrowed. She turned around, looking at the wall. The darkness wasn't deeper in one spot, so she headed that way, feeling against the wall. It suddenly wasn't there anymore, and she could hear sounds further away. Dripping water and squishy, scampering sounds. Suppressing a shudder, she picked up one of the lanterns on the nightstand beside the bed, lit it with Spike's lighter and headed off.  
  
"Oh, hey," Spike called after her, "if you happen to run into William in there, could you not have sex with him?"  
  
Okay, she thought, making her way down the sewer tunnel, apparently Spike has issues. And, she could understand that. She'd slept with a whole lot of people... recently. Well, actually, only Spike. And William, who was Spike. Sure she'd cheated on Oz with Xander, Tara with William. William with Spike... oy.  
  
Perhaps she should concentrate on the tunnel that was kind of gross, rather than on who she'd betrayed and how. She just needed to find a way to convince Spike that she wasn't going to cheat on him, and then everything would work itself out. Right?  
  
She found the bathroom easily enough due to the dripping water growing louder, and the smell of something yucky and thankfully unidentifiable growing stronger. There was a heavy piece of wood hanging by new hinges on a piece of board that went the length of the doorway, and even a doorknob of sorts, though the door didn't shut all the way, or connect to anything. It swung free, but was leaning inward enough that it stayed shut without leaving too big a gap.  
  
And as she pushed the makeshift door open, she wondered how on earth Spike had accomplished this. Sink, tub, toilet, just the barest essentials, but a miracle under the cemetery. The place was filthy, but considering it was carved out of dirt, she wasn't going to complain. The toilet, sink and tub were all clean, and-- after trying all three, she was happy to find them all in working order as well.  
  
A couple of mint green throw rugs littered the floor, as did a couple of mismatched towels near the tub. Shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste, mouthwash... It was all there, just as promised. She grinned, and hurriedly went pee, brushed her teeth with her finger, and rinsed her mouth a few times with the mouthwash.  
  
After returning to Spike's bedroom, she stood in the doorway, crossing her arms over her chest, leaving the lantern to dangle from her fingers. "How?" was all she asked.  
  
He was dressed as well now, and standing by the dresser. Before he shut the drawer, she saw a lot of black inside. She was proud of herself for not rolling her eyes; he might not take too kindly to being teased about his wardrobe.  
  
"Had a few demons who owed me," he explained with a shrug, heading to the bathroom himself.  
She watched him until he disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel. His footsteps, crunching on the dirt, grew fainter with each step. When she could neither see, nor hear him any longer, she sat down on his bed, bouncing happily a few times. A book on the floor beside the bed on Spike's side caught her eye. She leaned down to pick it up. It was a well-read paperback copy of a Stephen King novel.  
  
"The Shining," she mumbled, "huh. Gosh, who'd have guessed a big bad evil vampire was a fan of Stephen King?"  
  
"Dawn gave it to me," Spike said from behind her, so close that his breath fanned across her cheek. His no longer cigarette smelling breath.  
  
She jumped a couple of inches, spinning around to face him. The book went flying through the air. Spike caught it as she tried to calm her racing heart. "Stop doing that," she yelled. "Is that, like, foreplay for you?"  
  
He chuckled, tossing the book on the nightstand. "Maybe." He cupped her face, kissing her before she could say anything more.  
  
Her anger was quickly disappearing in the face of so much touching, and nice tasting Spike lips. "Minty fresh," she said, smacking her own lips. "Now *that's* nummy. Tobacco? Not so much."  
  
"I'll cut back," he told her, his eyes apologetic only to the point of not showing outright annoyance. "But first." He backed her against the wall, planting his hands on either side of her head, kissing her again. Deeply, thoroughly, and she knew where it was going to lead. Where she wanted it to lead.  
  
Sliding her arms around his waist she sighed contentedly, and broke the kiss. "First, we need to talk."  
  
"Why?" he grinned seductively. "I told you before, I can think of a whole range of things we could be doing. And not one of them involves talking." His eyebrow quirked up as he tilted his head to the side. "They do involve mouths though."  
  
Her knees went a little weak, and she covered for it by dropping to the bed. Sex was... really, really good with Spike, and fun, and wow, and amazing, but he didn't trust her, and she needed to find out how she could make him do that.  
  
Which meant serious big-time talking.  
  
Judging by the grin widening on his face, he knew the effect he was having on her. "Something wrong?" he asked innocently.  
  
Instead of denying it, she thought maybe she'd go with the truth for once. She shook her head with a smile. "Nope. I'm just-- you make me go all gooey."  
  
Spike burst out laughing. "Good to know." He leaned back against the wall, watching her curiously. "But, if I make you go all gooey," he smirked, "then why are you over there, and I'm over here?"  
  
"Because I can't talk and think and do other things I need to do logically when I'm near you."  
  
"Ah," he nodded wisely. "Of course." A few seconds later, he shook his head. "Screw logic. Better yet, screw me." And there was that sexy look again. The one she needed to ignore for the time being.  
  
"First, I need to talk. Then maybe the other." If you still want me, she added silently. "But definitely talking first." Taking a deep breath, she plunged right in. "Do you really think I'll sleep around on you?" She was hurt that he'd think that, and yet, she understood his reasoning. Her record so far was way less than stellar.  
  
He pushed away from the wall with a sigh, looking like he didn't want to start this any more than her. After a few seconds of silence, he sat at the head of the bed, leaned back against the headboard and drew her to him, raising his legs on either side of her. She settled back against him, feeling safe and secure in his arms. And loved, definitely loved. Why couldn't he feel her love for him?  
  
"No. Not intentionally. Not purposefully," he responded. "But temptation is sometimes really hard to resist."  
  
She wanted to deny it immediately, answer in the negative, but she didn't think he'd believe her. She hadn't wanted to cheat on Oz or Tara either, but she had. Why? Because of temptation.  
  
Because she wasn't completely content with them.  
  
There was contentment when she was with Spike. A feeling of being home. That's the only way she could describe it. She hadn't felt it completely with Oz, Tara, or Xander. Not solely. There was something from each and every one of them that she'd wanted, craved, needed, but there wasn't anything about them alone that could satisfy the need in her.  
  
She wasn't even making sense to herself now, how was she supposed to explain this to Spike?  
  
Instead of continuing along that vein, she decided to branch off and explain it to him the same way he'd explained things to her. "Did you know that I've loved Xander since we were, like, five?"  
  
He wrapped his arms around her waist, threading his hands with hers. "No."  
  
"I did," she confirmed, smiling reminiscently. "When we were kids, and the other kids picked on me, Xander made them stop. He stood up to Cordelia when she was mean and I was too scared to say anything. And Harmony," she laughed, remembering their eventful first meeting with the bitch turned vampire. "He was like this big ole knight in shining armor, and I was the damsel in distress. Only he saw me as a kid sister, or worse yet, just one of the guys."  
  
"His loss," Spike told her, trying to sound supportive, but she could tell he wasn't really in his element here. Children were probably a big mystery to him. Or tasty. Ew.  
  
"Yeah. But then Oz came along, and he knew I loved Xander, and he was patient. Willing to wait." She remembered all the times he'd refused to let their make-out sessions go any further because he wanted her to want him, not Xander by proxy. She'd been a little ticked off at the time, and really frustrated, but grateful to him. Especially now, looking back. "Finally, I realized how stupid it was to make myself miserable just on the off chance that Xander would suddenly realize I was there. So I turned to Oz, and he was so sweet, and really nice, and--"  
  
"Sweet, yeah, I get it." Spike shifted a little behind her.  
  
Uncomfortable with their position, or the conversation? she wondered. "Yeah. So I moved on, and I fell in love with Oz."  
  
"And we're moving on to something else," he said impatiently. "I don't care to hear about the boy, the dog or the witch. Why are you telling me this?"  
  
She sat up, unlacing her hands from his. He let her go, and reached over to the nightstand to light one of those cigarettes he'd just promised to cut back on.  
  
"I'm trying to tell you-- to explain," she said helplessly., gesturing at him. "I want you, Spike. Only you. Oz, Xander, Tara, they all had something that drew me to them, but it wasn't--" she sighed, unsure what she was trying to tell him. "When I was with them, something was missing, but I didn't realize it at the time. Looking back now, I know that it was just... incomplete. Something wasn't there when it should've been." She stood up angrily, pacing as she tried to think.  
  
Spike watched her silently, not offering her any help, letting her work things out on her own.  
  
"With Oz," she muttered, "he was sweet, and nice, and I loved him. But there just wasn't any..." she shook her head helplessly, "need, I guess. You know, that gotta-have-you-now sort of thing? It was more, take your time, we have all day."  
  
"Yeah," Spike agreed, taking a drag off his cigarette. "It was like that with Dru a lot."  
  
Okay, she really didn't want to hear that, but since she was being share-gal, she couldn't expect him not to be share-guy. Looking over at him, she wondered how it had taken so long for her to fall in love with him. "And then Tara happened," she said with a shrug. "With her, things were new, and different, and," she grinned to herself, "sort of naughty, and forbidden, and there was definitely need. But there wasn't any... passion. I mean, there was, but not like what we have." She gestured to the two of them.  
  
"Fire," Spike offered, his face blank. She hated when he did that. She liked to know what he was thinking.  
  
"Exactly," she agreed. "And Xander. He was just the fulfillment of a childhood crush. Something I'd wanted almost all my life, and there was the added bonus of love." She stopped pacing, turning to face him with a frown. "Do you understand what I'm saying? Because I don't know how else to explain it."  
  
He nodded, crushing his cigarette out on the floor. Sparks and ashes fell to the dirt, and she watched them fade away. Her eyes raised back to him when he spoke.  
  
"With Oz, you had passion, with Tara, you had need, and with Xander, you had the fulfillment of a childhood crush." Getting to his feet, he stood before her, looking down into her eyes. "What do you have with me?" he whispered.  
  
She sucked in a breath, unsure how to answer him. What came out was inadequate, but it summed it up enough for now. "Everything." 


	21. What Comes part21

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Fox, and Twentieth Century and whoever else has rights to it. I don't, more's the pity, but they do. No money is being made by me on this.  
  
Author's Note: This starts after season 5... and is rather AU. It has spoilers for basically all of season 4 and some of 5. I'm a Spike/Willow 'shipper, and this story is W/S. Also, this is a work in progress. I've been working on it for nearly two years now, and it's still not done, but I'm getting there. It's very long, and involed. Please hang in there, and don't give up on me if I don't update regularly. Reviews would be most welcome.  
  
Another Note: If you read this when I first posted it, you'll need to read it again to understand some of it. I've added a lot to previously posted chapters, and I couldn't begin to tell you which ones have new stuff, and which ones don't. Sorry.  
  
Dedicated: To my beta, Claudia, you rock! You all should thank her for getting more of this story.  
  
  
PART 21  
  
Merle was starting to hate his meetings with the Bosses. Every time he came lately, their was a big to do of some kind, and this meeting was no different. Xander and Buffy were arguing with each other, and had been since Giles had left the room a few minutes early. Barely tuning in the argument, Merle waited impatiently for them to remember he was even there.  
  
Occupying his time like he usually did, he looked at the huge, dark wood walls that went up for forever, the cream marbled floor, the light that came from above, but didn't seem to have a source. The windowless room was huge, and cavernous, and every little sound traveled, so when the door behind the table clicked, the arguing stopped and they all turned to watch Giles step up onto the dais and sit at the table.  
  
He was more haggard looking than Merle had ever seen him. His glasses were gone, and his shirt, normally tucked in and neat, was rumpled and hanging free.  
  
"Giles?" Xander questioned.  
  
"Because the Djin failed, and time is of the essence," he said wearily, "I'm afraid it's time." He held up his hand, forestalling an argument from Buffy, and rubbed his eyes. "Anya and Dawn are in agreement. I'm sorry, Buffy."  
  
That was Merle's cue. He turned and left the room, not looking forward to his next assignment.  
  
  
  
Spike listened to Willow silently, hardly interrupting at all, except where he felt it necessary to get more details, or fewer ones.  
  
She told him about her trip back in time, and then about the dreams the Djin had shown her. She told him everything he'd wondered about. Everything he thought she'd lied to him about. Poured her heart out, and was now wearing it on her partially torn sleeve.  
  
And he loved her even more for it. He was her everything.  
  
Occasionally a huge grin would spread across his face when he remembered her words. Remembered how much he'd felt like he belonged somewhere in the world when she told him that. Somewhere in her heart.  
  
He understood her a little better, understood the way she felt when she woke up alone in a different time after having just seen Giles' mutilated body. Understood why she slept with William. He was, after all, capable of manipulation and charm when it suited him. Spike knew how William worked.  
  
He looked down at the woman in his arms. She was looking up at him, a little annoyed. "What?" he asked. Most of what she'd said for the last five minutes had gone in one ear and out the other.  
  
She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Do you remember the night we all went to the Bronze? About a week before everyone died?"  
  
"I remember." Buffy had been there, that's what he remembered most. Most of his time had been spent watching her. She'd danced once with Xander, and he'd had to sit back and watch, keep from beating the crap out of both of them. She'd hardly even glanced his way except to insult him. He remembered that real well.  
  
"We were all there," she was saying, distracting him from his furious thoughts when her hand started tracing circles on his stomach. "Even Giles and Dawn."  
  
"Were they?" he asked, shrugging. Truthfully, he'd only been aware of Buffy. His fury at her and Xander dancing. Her insults. Her continued dislike of him. "Don't really remember anything except--"  
  
"Buffy," she interrupted. "You were sort of focused on her. All tunnel vision and one tracked. I get that, and I understand it. Doesn't really bother me."  
  
He was surprised to hear little conviction in her voice. Apparently it did bother her to some extent. Was this a new thing, or something that'd always been there?  
  
"No?" he inquired. His arms tightened around her. "Wanna try that again?"  
  
She shrugged, shaking her head. "No. Not really. That was then, and this is now," she offered, trying to convince them both of the truth in her words.  
  
He leaned down, pressing his lips against her ear as he whispered, "Liar." When he heard her heartbeat speed up, he grinned and nipped at her ear.  
  
She shivered and ducked away from his mouth, sounding slightly miffed when she continued. "Anyway, Tara did a spell that night, just before we left, though when she found the time to do it between--"  
  
He tightened his arms around her again, warning her to skip over the specifics of what she and Tara had been doing just before they left for the Bronze. She got the hint.  
  
"She, um, did a spell. To see auras. She spent pretty much the whole night watching you. You didn't notice at all?"  
  
He shook his head, though she couldn't see it. "No. Hardly remember her being there at all, let alone who she was watching." He paused for a second. "Why was she watching me?"  
  
"I'm not exactly sure," she said with a shrug. "Maybe your aura was the most fun? Light gray with a little black mixed in. You know that clichéd; white is good, black is evil thing? Well apparently there's truth in it."  
  
"And?" he said a little angrily. "Was that your point? To show me how not evil I am?" He was extremely offended. He knew he couldn't bite or kill innocent people anymore, and she knew it too, but he sure as hell wasn't a tame house cat. "I'll have you know I'm very evil still. When the implant wasn't working, I hunted."  
  
Perhaps he should've kept that to himself. She stiffened and pulled away from him. Her face, when she looked up at him, held so many emotions that he couldn't pinpoint one from the many. Possibly a lot of betrayal was in there, and accusation.  
  
"What? You told me you didn't--"  
  
"Kill," he stressed. "I didn't kill anyone, but I sure as hell did hunt." His own anger was very close to the surface, and he had to keep a tight rein on it. "I'm a vampire, I hunt and kill, Willow. It's what I do. What I am. Did you expect me to just continue feeding from a plastic bag when I had the freedom to hunt?" He could see from her face that she had thought that. Of course she did. She had no idea what it was like to be a vampire that craved a fresh kill, a good hunt.  
  
"Yes. I did," she said apologetically. "But I can't help it, Spike. I'm human, I'm food to you. Tell me you don't constantly think about eating me, and I in no way mean it that way, so get that smirk off your face." She rolled her eyes and sighed when he continued to smirk.  
  
Finally, he gave her a break and admitted it. "Yeah, I think about it. Not constantly, but I do think about it. And not in the killing way. I drink blood, I happen to like drinking blood, and during sex it's..." his eyes settled on the bitemarks on her neck. "Well, you know then, don't you?"  
  
She nodded, looking down at her hands as she picked at her fingernails. "It doesn't matter. The implant is still there and working, so the point is moot." She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "I'm glad you didn't kill anyone. And I can't really begrudge you for feeding."  
  
"Bloody right," he muttered, mollified. If, and when the implant ever stopped working, they'd have a really big argument, he knew, but for the time being, she was right; the point was moot. "So, what is the purpose of this trip down memory lane?"  
  
"Well, supposedly we're soul mates, which I don't get, because you have no soul. And you're a century old, so how does that work? Not to mention Drusilla and Buffy and-- well?"  
  
He stared down at her, wondering if it could be true. Were they soul mates? Of a sort. She was looking at him fearfully, probably afraid he'd laugh at her or something. She was way too insecure. He'd have to help her with that. "Come again?"  
  
"We're soul mates?" she whispered, looking up at him from under her lashes. When he nodded and looked over her head, she hurried to add, "I didn't actually believe it. 'Cause, you know, the no soul thing. But, Tara saw that, and I thought maybe... you should know. You know?"  
  
"Yeah," he agree absently. "You know, it's very rare for a human and demon to be mated. Almost unheard of."  
  
She stared back at him, obviously surprised that he believed her. "Um, how? How is it possible? 'No soul' sort of has me thinking it hinders the mating of two 'souls'."  
  
He smiled at her and pressed a quick kiss to her tempting lips. "You're extremely bright, Willow," he told her expectantly, knowing she'd get it sooner rather than later.  
  
She frowned in confusion, prodding him for more information by lifting her eyebrows at him in expectation.  
  
Okay, she was obviously stuck on the 'no soul' point, and, he realized, for a human it was a really big point to be stuck on. Still, it was kind of amusing to see her so baffled. It didn't happen often, but damn if he didn't enjoy it when it did.  
  
"Demons have soul mates too, in a way, but they're almost always mated to other demons." She still looked confused. "A human soul is what makes you think, act, love, like, hate, feel. All of that, right?"  
  
She nodded excitedly. "So, your demon-y essence, inside the human body, is like a soul. I've never thought about it like that before."  
  
He could see her mind going to work, and he had to smile. It was nice to be with someone who could think. Buffy was the closest he'd come, but since they'd never really had a conversation that didn't involve evil, death, him being evil, or just general evil, it was hard to be satisfied by that.  
  
"Maybe that means demons aren't all unerringly evil, which I always wondered about, 'cause of Oz, and okay, he wasn't really a demon, but, sort of," she muttered, more to herself than to him. "So if the human mind is good, without serial killer tendencies or something, and it helps shape the truly evil demon essence, then they could somewhat become good, like you. Well, you also have electronic help. But--"  
  
"Willow." Spike shook her out of her musings, cupping her face to look up at him. "Hi. Welcome back."  
  
"Sorry," she mumbled. "So, you believe it? That we're soul mates? How come we didn't immediately fall in love then? Or-- or--"  
  
He stopped her with another kiss on the lips. "I don't know. Doesn't really matter though. Whether we were meant for each other from the beginning, or just happened to fall in love on accident, either way the end result is the same and I'm happy."  
  
"Oh." Obviously she hadn't thought about it like that before. "Yeah, I guess you're right." She stood up, and headed toward the ladder. "Um, be back in a sec. I need to get those books."  
  
The magick books? He sighed, wondering what the hell she wanted them for. He waited while she went up to his crypt, coming back down with the three spell books. His glare at them wasn't missed by her. She knew how much he didn't like her doing spells. Why would she even think about doing one now?  
  
She sat on the bed beside him, and flipped through the first book. "I was sort of thinking maybe I could do a spell to figure out what happened in the past. Why nothing's changed--"  
  
He reached over and slammed the book shut. "You're not doing a spell," he told her, his eyes letting her know how serious he was.  
  
She wasn't going to be deterred that easily. She re-opened the book. "I'm just going to do a small one. I want to know why nothing's changed, why they're still dead. It'll be easy, just a quick, simple spell."  
  
He took the books from her, practically having to tear them out of her hands. "How about you don't do a spell, and we figure it out on our own?" he asked reasonably, setting the books on the floor beside him. Out of her reach unless she wanted to dive over him.  
  
She looked at him, her face full of the resolve and determination that had always made Xander give in. "Spike, it's easier this way. Just let me--"  
  
"No," he said harshly, his voice filled with barely controlled anger. "We'll figure it out on our own. Leave the magick alone for a while." He was adamant on this point. No blasted magick around him. Preferably no magick at all. She was getting too dependant on it. Using it at every turn, for everything she couldn't fix, and he'd be damned if he'd let her become addicted to it.  
  
She was fighting her own anger, and trying not to let it show. "What's your big hang up about magick, Spike? One stupid screw up that had you engaged to Buffy and suddenly you think I'm a pathetic witch? I have powers and skills, and no matter what you say, I intend to keep using them. Just, obviously, not now."  
  
He narrowed his eyes at her. "No you won't. you're becoming dependant on it, Willow. Stay away from it for a while, all right? Please?"  
  
She looked about ready to protest, but gave in with a sigh. "Fine." She sat on the end of the bed, away from him.  
  
  
  
Merle waited silently in the sewer tunnel for the perfect opportunity. As he left the bosses behind, Buffy had run up to him.  
  
"Wait until they're together. Make sure--" she'd paused a few times, having to fight back her anger and helplessness. "Make sure they're together and not arguing when you do it. She should be happy when you-- when you... just go," she'd whispered, unable to finish the sentence. It wasn't due to any feelings she had for the vampire, all her worry was for Willow. Her best friend. The one they were trying to drive insane to save her soul.  
  
The couple in question was currently in the vampire's bed, talking. The conversation had gone from sweet and sappy to arguing within seconds, quite a few times. They were no longer fighting now though, so he figured, it was now or never.  
  
Vampire ridges firmly in place, he walked around the corner, into the light of the bedroom. "So, I'm thinking to myself, what's it gonna take to get you to share the redhead?"  
  
Willow rolled out of bed with a scream, jumping to her feet at the same time as Spike. Once the initial surprise was over, Willow rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Is there, like, a vampire 101 class that teaches you these same old tired lines?"  
  
"Willow," Spike said conversationally, "get me a stake?" He gestured to the dresser behind her, not taking his eyes off of Merle. "You know, I'm getting tired of repeating myself," he told Merle, stalking over to him. "I don't share."  
  
Merle shrugged, completely unconcerned. He was at least two times stronger than any vampire. The times he'd fought Spike and Willow, he'd kept his full strength to himself. But tonight he wouldn't be.  
  
Willow pulled open one of the drawers on the dresser, half watching Merle. He'd have her full attention soon enough. He let Spike stalk over to him, even let him catch the stake Willow tossed at him. But as soon as the vampire got close enough to use it, Merle snarled and attacked.  
  
His fist slammed into Spike's jaw, snapping his head to the right. A split lip and blood immediately appeared. Spike ducked his head and dove at Merle, knocking both of them to the dirt floor. Plumes of dust billowed around them, getting in their eyes and throats. Willow yelped a little and cautiously backed away from the fighting duo.  
  
"Spike?" She sounded a little scared, but not overly so.  
  
"Little busy here," Spike answered as he jabbed an elbow into Merle's abdomen and tried to stake him.  
  
Merle easily deflected the blow, knocked the stake out of his hands, and punched him in the face again. Blood smeared along the lower half of his face, making it look much worse than it actually was, and with his extra-vampire sense, Merle heard Willow's sharp intake of breath. Spike must've heard it too, because he hauled Merle to his feet and grinned at her. The blond vampire looked more demented than reassuring, but it seemed to work somewhat on the girl.  
  
"Stake," she whispered to herself, glancing around for it, her heart beating frantically. "Where the hell is it?"  
  
Merle allowed Spike to get in a few blows to his head and chest, but easily grew bored and impatient. They'd told him to take his time, but the vampire beating on him didn't know that, so he was only forcing him to kill him sooner. After a particularly hard blow to the jaw, Merle grinned at Spike and waited for the next blow.  
  
When it came, he didn't even wince as the fist struck flesh and bone; as blood flowed freely from his mouth. His eyes bored into Spike's, promising death only after a lot of pain. Spike must've understood, because he turned to Willow, who was still searching for the stake or something equally wooden and pointy to use against Merle, and ordered her to leave.  
  
She straightened up from her search under the bed, and shook her head stubbornly. "What? No. I'm not leaving you here to--"  
  
"Bloody hell, Willow," Spike bit out, as he was thrown against a wall, "get the hell out of here, and don't come back! I'll meet you at the--" a foot caught him in the side of the head, stunning him for a second. He shook himself free of Merle's hold and grabbed Merle by his jean jacket. "I'll meet you where we were last night," he told Willow, tossing her a look as he tossed Merle across the room.  
  
Merle laughed and jumped to his feet, enjoying himself for the first time in a long time. Fighting was always something he'd greatly enjoyed. It'd been a long time since he'd just fought for the pure joy of it. As Spike stalked toward him, jumping over the bed to reach him, Merle winked at Willow. "Meet ya at the Magic Box, honey," he whispered with a promise.  
  
Willow's eyes widened, and she tried to back away, but Merle wasn't about to let her get free. This whole thing depended on her being present, otherwise the plan was for naught.  
  
"Willow, God damn it, just go," Spike yelled, sounding a little desperate now. He grabbed Merle again, but this time he wasn't able to move him. His surprised gaze shot to Merle's just before Merle's fist hit him in the eye. A groan of pain slipped out as he tried to lift himself from the floor, wiping blood from his mouth as he stood.  
  
Willow, staring from one to the other, quickly made a decision. She grabbed the nearest thing she could get her hands on, which turned out to be a chair, picked it up over her head with effort, and dropped it down on Merle, then desperately began to chant a spell.  
  
Unhurt, Merle immediately stood back up again, turning his attention to Willow. Her lips were moving quickly as she whispered the words needed for whatever spell she was doing, her eyes were starting to turn black, and a breeze was whipping up dust in the chamber.  
  
Spike, holding his side, groaned again, and Merle was positive it was due more to Willow's use of magick than his pain. He hobbled over to her, reaching out to touch her shoulder just as Merle threw a packet of herbs to the floor at her feet. Giles had warned him about Willow's use of magick and prepared a spell to keep her bound. The packet of herbs exploded, throwing Spike to the floor. She could neither do any magick now, or leave. The magick hit Willow equally as hard, and her head fell back. Dark blue smoke swarmed around her, wafting this way and that as it snaked its way around her from head to foot.  
  
"Willow," Spike ground out, coughing a few times, spitting out blood. He had yet to get up from the floor, and Merle knew he was weak, made weaker by the magick.  
  
It was time to get down to business.  
  
Willow was aware again, looking around fearfully for Spike, not yet realizing she was trapped. When she saw him, she tried to go to him, but was only able to take one step before the invisible barrier stopped her. Her eyes widened with panic.  
  
"Spike," she whispered a little desperately, "get up. Get up." Her eyes darted toward Merle as he closed the distance between himself and the vampire. He bent down, grabbing Spike by his shirt. The thin black material ripped under the rough treatment, and he slipped out of Merle's grip, dropping back to the floor. "Spike!" She was yelling now, close to sobbing.  
  
Spike was pretending to be weaker than he actually was, Merle knew. Giles had warned him the herbs would weaken Spike, but he'd also cautioned him against relying on it too much. So when Spike grabbed Merle's legs and yanked them out from under him, Merle wasn't too surprised. He heard Willow's gasp of relief as he hit the ground. Allowing her the smallest bit of hope, he let Spike climb laboriously to his feet and make his way all the way over to her.  
  
"Why didn't you leave?" Spike asked, circling around her, trying to find a way to get her out. "When will you learn?" he yelled.  
  
She jumped slightly at the anger in his voice, and her lower lip began to tremble. "I couldn't leave you," she whispered.  
  
Spike broke one of the chairs against the wall and picked up a leg. Heading over to Merle, he was a bit surprised when Merle jumped to his feet, spry as can be.  
  
"This is *so* touching," Merle laughed, "it really is, but," he paused, tilting his head to the side as if in thought, "I'm afraid it's about to get deadly."  
  
Spike sighed, gesturing to Willow. "Whatever the hell you did to her, undo it." He stalked closer, brandishing his makeshift stake threateningly. "Now."  
  
Merle shook his head teasingly. "No." He leaned toward Spike in a conspiratorial manner. "How can I make her watch you die if she's off running into the sunlight? And you will die," he assured Spike. "And she will watch."  
  
"No," Willow whimpered. Big fat tears were starting to roll down her cheeks, making her eyes even brighter, and her face more pathetic. Her eyes begged him, her voice pleaded with him, and her mouth and words promised him. "Y-- you can have me, just leave him--"  
  
"Not bloody likely," Spike bit out, tossing Willow an incredulous look. "Neither one of us are dying today, love, so stop promising him your life." He grabbed Merle's arm and brought him toward him at the same time as he swung the broken chair leg at his chest.  
  
Merle grinned and easily stopped Spike's arm just before the stake touched his flesh. "Not so fast," Merle chided. "We have all day."  
  
"What--" was all Spike got out before Merle punched him with full force. Spike, already unconscious from the blow, went flying backward to slam into the stone wall above the bed. His body dropped to the bed where it bounced a few times before coming to rest in a heap.  
  
"Now," Merle chuckled, tossing a smile at Willow, "let the fun begin." Tossing the stake into the air jauntily, he caught it and headed toward Spike.  
  
Willow screamed.  
  
That lasted for only a few seconds before she once again tried to do a spell. Merle stopped and turned toward her, watching her with amusement. Nothing happened when she finished, as he'd known it would. He raised an eyebrow, silently asking her if she was through. She ignored him and tried again. And a third time after that. Tears were flowing freely now, and her voice was hitching in her throat. Her sobbing grew louder and louder with each failed attempt.  
  
Finally she resorted to begging again. "Please, don't kill him. You can have me. I'll-- I'll do whatever you want, please, just don't hurt him... please."  
  
Merle wasn't sure he was enjoying himself any longer. He hadn't been working for the side of evil for long, only a few months now... truthfully, this was his first job not doled out by the Powers, and he felt rather... bad for the girl. Everything he'd done to her over the past few months was definitely taking its toll on her. And her pleas were taking a toll on him.  
  
He had to force himself not to drop the magick binding her, and leave. As it was, he was halfway to her before he stopped himself. This was important. He was saving her soul. If he looked at it like that, it was easier to do.  
  
He sighed, thinking maybe he'd worked too long for the side of good. This evil thing wasn't all it was cracked up to be.  
  
Steeling himself for a long day ahead, he headed out into the sewer tunnel and grabbed the bag of tools he'd left there. Dropping it to the bed, he opened the clasp and pulled out the first thing his hand closed around. He didn't need to look to see what he'd grabbed, Willow's gasp of horror was enough to let him know, even if the familiar shape of the bottle hadn't.  
  
"Oh, God," she whispered in despair. She wanted desperately to look away, to not watch as her lover was tortured, and after a few moments, she gave in, closing her eyes with a sob.  
  
Unfortunately, that was a problem. As he pulled out all the rest of the items from the bag and lined them up, stalling for time, he ordered her to watch.  
  
She shook her head, biting her lip to keep more sobs at bay. "N-- no." Her voice was so low he wouldn't have heard it if he didn't have the vampire hearing aiding him.  
  
"I said, watch!" he yelled, angry at himself, and the situation he'd allowed himself to be in. He'd wanted to work on the side of evil, wanted to hurt people, torture them-- no. If he was honest with himself, he'd admit that he'd wanted to be out from under the Power's thumb more than anything else.  
  
"Or what?" she yelled back. "You'll kill me?" She sneered at him, standing tall with defiance. "Then kill me."  
  
Merle shook his head, taking out the lengths of rope he'd cut to secure Spike with while he tortured him. "It doesn't work that way. See, this is how it goes; I torture him, the traitor vampire, and you, his human bitch, watches." Feeling a little disgusted with himself, he forced his eyes to focus on her. "Maybe then you and I can have some fun. What do you say, baby?"  
  
Instead of answering, she glared at him, then sat on the floor, purposely disobeying his order to watch. "Go back to hell."  
  
Merle sighed, digging another packet of herbs from his jeans pocket. He walked over to the witch, holding them up for her to see. "Know what this is?" She didn't answer. He hadn't really expected her to. "It's a spell to force you to watch. Do you really want me to use it?"  
  
She looked up in indecision. But her resolve was far from broken. "Let him go."  
  
Merle dropped his hand, standing back up. "No. There's no chance of that, so you'd better wrap your mind around that pretty damn quickly. I'm here to kill your boy, but if you don't watch, I'll make it hurt as much as I can."  
  
She whimpered a little, biting her lip to keep from screaming. He could see it in her eyes, all over her face. She wanted to break, just start screaming and yelling, but she held it together. It was rather impressive. She finally lifted her head, and fixed her eyes on Spike.  
  
"There we go," he enthused, giving her a menacing smile. Moving back to the bed, he tied one of Spike's wrist to the brass bedpost, skirted the bed to the other side and did the same with his feet and other hand. "Now," he said conversationally, "what do you think it'll take to get him to come to?" Bending down, he grabbed the bottle of holy water. "Let's find out, shall we?"  
  
Uncorking the clear bottle, he stretched his arm out, holding it directly over Spike's chest, hearing her intake of breath. Just before he let it dribble out, he re-corked it and reached down to rip Spike's T-Shirt off, listening to Willow's gasp of relief. Since it was already torn and bloody, it easily came off under his hands. Not sure if she'd appreciate it or not, he tossed the black material to her, and went back to his holy water torturing.  
  
Willow quickly grabbed the shirt from the floor and hugged it to her like a stuffed animal. A couple of deep shuddering breaths left her, but she stayed silent.  
  
Merle resumed his position, tipped the bottle over, and let a half cup of the liquid splash onto Spike's pale chest. Spike's body shot up as smoke curled away from the angry red burn marks appearing on his flesh. A shout of pain rose from amid the snarls and growling as he struggled to get his hands free. He yanked and pulled so hard that the bed was shaking, and the brass headboard was banging against the wall behind it, but it held. It wasn't until a few minutes later that he calmed enough to look around himself. When his eyes landed on Willow, he growled louder, tried harder to get free.  
  
"Ah-ah," Merle warned him, drawing his attention. "No getting free until I've had my fun." Tugging at the rope around Spike's right foot, he chuckled. "Magick's a pretty handy tool, isn't it?"  
  
Spike sneered at him. "Only for weaklings. How about you drop all the magick and fight me like a demon?"  
  
Merle's eyes slid to Willow, seeing her standing slowly, frowning at Spike with pain-filled eyes.  
  
Spike didn't notice, all his attention was on Merle. "Gotta hide behind magick to get the job done?" He lifted his head, taunting, "Be a man."  
  
Merle shook his head, ignoring Spike. "You know, you are *not* well liked at Willy's. Traitor, human-lover, Slayer's puppy, Witch's lapdog... that's what they call you down there." Taking a large, wooden cross off of the bed with a handkerchief, he held it up for Spike and Willow to see, pretending to examine it in the light. "I stuck up for you at first. I did. No way could Spike be a traitor, I said. He's a legend, man." Merle tossed a sideways look at Spike, shaking his head. "Then I saw you; protecting the witch."  
  
He lowered his hand and pressed the cross to Spike's stomach with punishing force, waiting for Spike to shout or yell, but he did neither. Hissed in pain a little, tried to shift out from under the wooden cross, even while smoke rose up and the stench of burning flesh permeated the cavern, and the sound of sizzling met their ears. But no yelling.  
  
Merle shrugged, dropping the cross to the bed. "What happened to you?" he asked derisively, playing the part of the young vampire who's been disappointed by a living legend. "You used to be one of us, man. Evil." He picked up the holy water again, and dribbled it onto Spike's arms. "Now you're a pathetic human-lover."  
  
Willow, who'd remained silent so far, was sobbing again, once again trying to do a spell. Spike was in tremendous pain, Merle knew, but he didn't let it show. His eyes stayed fixed solely on Merle, never straying to Willow once.  
  
  
  
After what felt like hours to Merle, he knew it was time. Spike was barely alive, bleeding from too many cuts and stab wounds to count. Holy water burn marks, and cross-shaped burns riddled his entire body, every inch of his skin. He straightened up from the unconscious vampire, and glanced over at the trapped witch.  
  
She was watching every move he made, mumbling something like a mantra. Over the past hour he'd heard her go through spell after spell to no avail. Then the praying started. To what God or Goddess, he had no idea, for she never spoke a name, just prayed to whoever it was that they wouldn't let Spike die. After that, she'd started saying Spike's name over and over.  
  
She was broken, he knew. Very near the edge. There was only one thing left to do, just as they'd planned.  
  
After packing his tools away, he stood up and approached Willow, letting her see him. Her eyes, so dull and unaware, focused on him, following his trail from the bed to her. She stood up, waiting.  
  
For death? he wondered.  
  
He forced a chuckle from his throat, and stopped in front of her with a sigh. "Okay, I think I'm all done here. If you have any questions...?" he laughed some more, sliding something from his pocket. Her eyes were focused on Spike again, so she didn't see him drop the handful of herbs to the floor at her feet.  
  
"He's not dead," she whispered, hope lacing her voice, and a small hesitant smile creeping up her lips. "He's not dead."  
  
Merle, currently behind her, trailed his hand along the invisible barrier, watching as it sparked under his fingers. "Wasn't going to kill him. That was never my intention," he said softly, circling around to face her.  
  
She frowned, looking like she wanted to be happy, but she didn't trust him. "You aren't..." her voice trailed off when he touched the barrier again. She saw it spark, saw it starting to break down, and was doing a pathetic job of not letting him know she knew. Her eyes shot to his again, but kept dropping to his hand. "You're letting him live?" she whispered.  
  
He nodded, grinning at her. "Think I'll have a little fun with you though. Maybe make the vampire watch." Resisting the urge to take back his words and calm her suddenly racing heart, he spun away from her, giving her numerous opportunities to break free of the barrier. Pulling out a stake he'd hidden in the bloody blankets beside Spike, he waited patiently until he was sure she was nearly free.  
  
She was once again chanting, speaking Latin in low, frantic whispers that were growing louder by the second. Holding the stake high with a shout of anger, he turned to her. If he'd had any leanings toward humans, he'd have to say that this one was one that could capture his attention.  
  
She was beautiful when she was mad. Her eyes were swimming black pools again, her head held high, watching him. A wind had whipped up, swirling her hair and clothes about her in an enticing manner. She was hellbent with fury. Her hands rose up, aimed straight at Merle, and as he tensed up for the final moment, she smiled. And it was a smile of pure evil.  
  
Then magick shot out from her hands, purple magick that was licking its way up her arms, dancing along her skin. Merle jumped out of the way with a laugh and rolled into the sewer tunnel. Staying only long enough to see Spike explode into dust.  
  
Willow's scream of anguish echoed throughout the tunnels long after the sound died away. It also echoed in his head long after he left the year two thousand and one. 


End file.
